Train rides can be really boring without phones, or earphones or reading material. Train rides are just boring, specifically ones that go for an hour and twelve minutes. Before I was used to writing posts when I was on flights, but since the break up I doubt I’m going to be doing any Sydney trips soon.


I’m not sure if I’m going to miss flying or not. I miss the excitement; I miss the feeling of love. I miss the butterflies. But I don’t miss all the tears, or the anxiety or all the stress. I don’t really want to think about any of it to be honest, I’d much rather think about the future and be optimistic.


New career, new outlook, new new new new new. I don’t know if I feel different because of the change or because of the Prozac. Usually I write these posts to see how I’m feeling, but right now I think it’s best I don’t introspect too deeply. Mainly because I’m scared of my emotions. I don’t want to feel any of the pain I felt before, I don’t want to dig it up or describe it.


I’m mainly starting new paragraphs right now to defer from the topic of emotions, yet here I am… bringing it up… yet again.


Ok. So! Drinking.


I’m doing way too much of it lately. I don’t know why, but I feel like a completely different person.


Ok, and again. Let’s stay away from the ‘f’ word.


Game of Thrones finale is tonight!!! …


Fuck it, all this blog is, is about emotions and feelings. Why escape it, right? I’m obviously typing this either, A because I’m bored or B because subconsciously I think there’s some necessity to it.


I used to work late at night, and now I’ve started work in social media and sort of professional writing. I think I prefer day me, however I also preferred getting an income. Have to start somewhere, hey? All I know…


Sorry I wanted a new paragraph.


All I know, (was that a bout of OCD!?) is that I’m happier and excited. I’m meeting new people, excited about things yet I don’t think more than twenty-four hours in advance. I’m not sure if that’s a negative or not, or rather me being precautious because last time I ended up planning ahead of time I got hurt. Badly.


I’m not sure if I have any readers anymore, other than the ones I link to a certain post to explain the reason why I am the way I am. If there are anymore of you out there, I would love to have some topics to write about. Pick an emotion, a word, anything.


I want to… continue changing, and I think I can’t do it listening to my emotions… mainly because I’m currently medicating them away. It’s funny thinking about an emotion but coming to a blank – like looking out the window assuming to see a view only to see a brick wall. I’m not sure if that’s my personal attempt of self preservation to block me away from the emotions that I fear… well just fear really. Is it normal to have a phobia of emotions?


Thinking back, I’m not sure if I’ve cried since the initial 3-week procedure of Prozac. I think I cried enough before, but when you start to become almost allergic to your emotions… is that a thing?


If an allergy is the physiological way of fending off a contagion of the body which may cause harm, which right now my emotions are, would it be right to say that I’ve grown an allergy to my emotions? Or an intolerance? Are they poisonous, or toxic? Is the first sign of anxiety directly damaging, or do I have a reserve? I don’t think I’m quite at the moment to test the theory.


Haha start out writing on a train to pass time, hoping something cheery might come out – mainly because I’m slightly paranoid of the people behind me peeking at my screen and reading things about me… which really is silly, when I’m posting this for the world to see anyway… I’m rambling, aren’t I?


Well… I’m bored, and right now you’re all I have. I have… 20 more minutes I think until I reach my stop.


So… to pass the time I’ll write about a person. I won’t give them a name or any hint of identity. All I’ll say is I miss them. It’s not the obvious. It’s just someone who’s turned into more of a passing thought then an option. Option to talk to, confide in, laugh with and learn from. It’s funny how at the end of the day, it’s the people you really never knew that can be the reason for sleepless nights. Wondering thoughts of what could’ve been and what never will be. I’m not sure if anyone else shares my predicament.


But…when writing I suppose I assume I’m directing my feelings at someone, or more my words to someone.


10 minutes left now.


5 more minutes ( I had to edit ).


I would think that every writer types out their words with a specific certain person in mind. Maybe someone they wish was reading but know they won’t be, or maybe someone they know will read it, curving and manoeuvring their words carefully around the specifics to ensure anonymity.


Looks like this is the last stop.


Thanks for the entertainment.


Till next time x