Midnight Musings

12/20/16

Here's how I like to think of my insides. My heart. My brain. Whatever. I like to think of it as an attic, or a storage place. In this attic, you have a bunch of boxes. They're all filled to the brim with balls of yarn. Balls that are tightly woven & beautifully organized. They're all different colors, textures, sizes you name it. Most importantly, though, they all fit neatly within the box.

But as soon as you open a box, as soon as you start to take out the yarns, they start to unravel. And as the yarns unravel, so do the secrets and stories and everything I've compartmentalized. And as they continue to unravel, more details & facts about the yarns spill out with them, and then they no longer fit neatly in the box. They don't fit anywhere.

Which means you're left with a giant mess of Julia, that nobody wants, nor knows how, to clean up. Not even me. So instead I take all of my yarns, and I carve them into my wrists. I brand them into my thighs, wrap them around my stomach, and tattoo them to my hips. Anything to make them go away, and to compartmentalize them again. Because I don't know how to clean up my messes. Nobody does.

People are 100% content with ripping apart your yarns and leaving you in the disheveled, obliterated aftermath. Because guess what? They don't know how, nor do they want, to clean up your mess either. Nobody ever does. They just want to spill the secrets, and not ever deal with them mess. It's not like the messes were their business anyways. But then again, neither were the yarns.

•2:38am