I recently started letting some into my house again, here and there. Part of me likes it, but most of me has acquired an association with it's absence and home. I was letting in more at first(a few weeks ago), than I am now. I feel like I'm doing my best, but I'm ruining my experiment. I also decided to start covering up a little less when I go out. Not wearing sleeves or gloves, or leaving some of my leg bare, and twice I went out without a scarf. Every time, I tell myself that I'm going to burn. I don't want to burn, but I don't want to be crazy either. I might be.
I wear 110+ sunblock, and have only gone out later in the day. I've really only been going in the car and across parking lots, and often it's been cloudy, but these are only excuses. I expect more.
I believe that it's irritating, and I can feel it on my skin, but crazy people believe what they want to believe. It gets so irritating that I want to pause the experiment, but at this point, logically, my results should be in soon, and I want them. It doesn't take much longer after that for me to lose my patience. A heat radiates from just underneath my skin. The lightbulbs and stove become noticeably hotter too. Everything becomes light, and stressful. I try to wait for marks or an undoubtable amount of pain, or anything that I can be sure is not a figment of my imagination. When I notice marks or dots or tiny hives, it's not enough, they could be anything. Any sensation I feel could be anything too.
The stress helps me realize it's hopeless. I'm not doing enough to
get enough, I'm just fucking with myself. I don't want to push harder, or continue, I want a break. I want to feel like I'm treating myself normally. In this position, the most comforting choice to make is to admit that I wouldn't like either final result of the experiment. Both possibilities would only fuel more negativity towards the sun. Extra spite is the opposite of what I need, especially if I'm insane. I don't want the stress that I've already caused to be nothing other than a tantrum of insecurity, so I remind myself of what I've done(received more light), and how beneficial that sounds when I say it. It might not be much, but I've made some progress with practicing being human, and that's what's most important, especially if I'm insane. On the other hand, I know that after I cool down I might start from the beginning again, with the same beginning motive.
I can't tell if I'm making the whole thing crazy, or if it's making me crazy, or if under the circumstances everything is reasonable. I think I'm explaining it wrong. I'm as confused as the next guy. I'll probably change my mind, and write a retort next week entitled,"Contradictions and Me".
Light, light, light. That's my problem. That's not right, it's true. It may sound wrong to you, me too. There's nothing normal about the way I treat myself, and no one who's sure of what's best. I talk about it all the time, nonstop, and never. I do whatever.
Everyone's very happy for me slithering out from the darkness, and I'm happy for them, but no less pissed off."I need to learn how to do this myself!", I wail, opening the curtains. Then, I soil my diaper and pout. Baby steps.
I feel awkward when anyone does anything to cater to my sensitivity. I don't expect it, every time. Don't they know I'm crazy? Suckers.
If I'm particularly cranky, I'll wear a hat just to clean inside of my house. If I get a little crankier, I'll take it back off. This behavior reminds me of puberty, but without all the other dumb kids. It's a cry for attention towards my changing body. It's pretty intense stuff. Also, I have acne.
Incendiary or insanity? I can't choose both, that's greedy. I know that it's real, but how real? What convincing tricks my mind must play to make a fool of me. Fool me twice, I'm crazy. I'm making lots of progress.
If you aren't familiar with my work, this is about that thing I discuss sometimes. Thanks for tuning in, and be sure to look out for ghosts.
Until next time, follow me on twitter, and hashtag your friends.
