I missed Mona Lisa this year. She's already naked, save for a few bunches of deep red berries. I don't know how I managed to miss her fall foliage, I normally gravitate to her in the autumn. But then, I'm not gravitating toward the same things so much anymore. I'm gravitating toward new things. Things that are, in their own right, beautiful, but in vastly different ways. I've started really throwing myself into social situations, when those of you who've known me have always known that I had serious hermit tendencies. I'm trying to force myself to do the thing that everyone seemed to want me to do after Alexis. Get back to living, rejoin reality...
I find myself really grappling with this new sense of normalcy. There is a new Erin I haven't gotten to know yet. I think I'm trying too hard because I'm aware now that these are things I'm supposed to find. Before, it just happened (though admittedly, it didn't happen well.) This time I'm ready to find it, do it and get it done already.
I'm rushing me, and it just isn't really working out. I should know better, and just let it happen, but I don't make the conscious decision to do much of anything anymore. I'm on autopilot, and it seems to be programmed to the "go" setting. Sometimes I look up and realize I'm being dragged along, sort of like the bullrider that falls off but gets his hand stuck in the rope. Then I wonder what the hell I was thinking when I saddled up in the first place.
Weird. Passive proactive. Is there such a thing? I just do what I think I'm supposed to do without thinking about what I'm doing.
I'm pushing myself (whether by choice or not) too hard, and I know this because the people and things I've always enjoyed are no longer enjoyable. Like poetry. Just thinking of writing is draining.