Edge

It's very easy to fall into the habit of just whinging about whatever's in my mind and washing around in my emotions, as it tends to be self obsessed, but I guess this happens when you go for days on end without speaking to anyone. Maybe I should get myself a basket ball.

So why do I write this? I came up with a concept ages ago of 'emotional memory', the key here is that I don't have one, or at least, it's very weak. What I mean by 'emotional memory' (let's just call it EM) is remembering how I felt about different things, as opposed to facts and figures, languages, things to do and so on. My problem is that I can't remember how I felt in the past, for example why it was important for me to go out and meet people, so I don't do it, then when I do go out, all the memories come flooding back and I kick myself for not going out more. It's usually at this point that I forget what it's like to not want to step outside, to not 'get' what human contact is all about. As I write I realise that although my emotions tend to exist only in the present tense, my mind, my thoughts, my intellect are often racing ahead to worry about some potential future catastrophe, meaning that I find it hard to fully relax and enjoy my 'now'. Aside from being cruelly ironic, I'm sure there's a psychologist somewhere that can explain what's going on.

So, coming back, I write this as a record of my emotional state. Unfortunately because of my poor EM, when I'm feeling good I don't feel the need to write; can't remember why, and when I'm feeling down I don't see the point, or am paralysed with indecision and a failure of courage. Occasionally when I flip the coin and it lands on the edge I actually get something down. Is this where the phrase 'on edge' comes from? So today I am on edge. No, that doesn't feel accurate.

I think I'm just really, really bored.