I see living ghosts

I don't know what's happening to me.

I knew what I wanted, what I was.

I knew what I feared, what would happen.

I surfaced and knew what I feared had happened, and held my breath and let it happen.

Then it left me and I was free to breath again, but still I held my breath.

And now I am sleep walking, nether alive nor underworld.

Now I have myself opened up again and am seeing, feeling, reaching out, and filling with important beautiful things.

I am even attempting to write and capture these things, these thing that are objectively, spiritually, exactly what I have always wanted.

I don't even have a nagging feeling of something wrong, or some problem that I need to focus on and solve.

But something still is closed off.

Maybe it is that I am not feeling the need or desire to reach out to my love. Though that should be less than a problem.

But something is still closed off.

Something.


As I imply, I feel like I am surrounded by ghosts, and yet I also feel like I am seeing beautiful things about life. I was moved by people's work. Yet I wasted so much time this morning trying to not think by watching nothing. Yet again, I was surprised to find myself cry at the intention behind an otherwise poorly constructed music video. I have been smiling and nodding at the meaning of music, actually speaking up to try and support someone, dressing with the intention to breath and think clearly, trying to begin writing things dear to my heart, and somewhat succeeding.

And yet, I do not think myself fully in the world of the living. Still I feel sealed off and still I feel half complete.

Ah.

Still these words are devoid of the weight they ought to carry.

////////
I really really managed quite a bit today. In philosophy, in music, in games, and fiction. About myself and in areas I haven't worked with before. By the end I was myself, the way I wanted to be, and I end the day very (very very) worn out, but satisfied that the earlier mindlessness and general wrongness is gone or small compared to what I've done and accomplished between then and now.
I'm twisting, trying so hard. With my mind, with my instinct, with my passion and morals and ideals; to either create something beautiful or learn how to be beautiful myself. It's working and I'm enjoying it, but I'm still certain it's not enough. It's making me happy and sad. So am I making progress, or still misguided? You can't know, but I still want to write to the silence and speak to . ... as if there are answers for me. So please do worry and ask, each time it comforts me and makes me happy and helps me. I /can/ do it on my own, as I always fiercely tell myself. But to my surprise help brings me so much farther.