at any other point in time i don't know how i end up with whatever interests i end up being interested in. i know i end up with interests, i'm too curious of a creature not to. but i also think about how little i was exposed to when i was younger (not just when i was a child, but well into my 20s) and how relatively recently i came into the art and ideas that are most important to me now and how i am still reticent due to insecurity ("who cares") while also knowing that in the past i felt resentment when i found out a friend had been "in the know" the whole time about something i had just discovered ("why didn't they tell me") and isn't that hypocritical of me?

but also idk i think that i am the best architect of my own loneliness as much as i protest it. which is not to say that i'm lonely, just that i have some kind of complex around it, there's comfort in what you're used to, etc.

and in order to connect with people i have to use my words. what's the use of words? i dream up a disjunction between intelligibility and feeling and of course language that exists on one side or the other ends up hitting with alienation.

last week at this time i was getting coffee with the person who knows me best and struggling to express an idea that i found interesting, and they were jetlagged and cranky and not ready to receive any of it, and i ended up crying like three times on and off through the conversation. we're good now, we both knew what was up. but man when the alienation hits hard it hits hard.

this is the kind of thing i usually just get out in my journal but that's in the other room and we're doing a little experiment this morning where i just post about it instead apparently. which has its own totally different cadence and flavor, but still erring on feeling over intelligibility. insecurity! i don't know! my coffee is room temperature now and i am going to go dice a sweet potato as my confusion clears out