I've been having a few rough days—let me navel-gaze and ramble and tell you why.

I've been having a rough couple of days. Here are three reasons why:

1. Congrats, everyone that thought it was weird that I'd be willing to spend significant time away from my significant other: yes, that's hard. Of course it's fucking hard. I've done plenty of multiple day trips; that's easy. A few days more, though, and I do find myself—not homesick, really, not lonely either. I just miss him. That's obvious and predictable but for me it is remarkable, because missing people is one of the big things my brain does not do. As a result it's something I don't know how to cope with, either. I miss him.

2. Portland and I have unfinished business. I have deep love for this city, but.... A lot of bad shit went down here, right? Some of it because being apart from Devon is fucking hard. Most of it because I was sick. I was just really fucking sick back then. Some of it is tied up in the exact same things that make me love this city—all the opportunities I didn't, couldn't, take advantage of before, and how much of a failure I felt as a result. But sometimes it's just simple familiarity, it's poking around damnportlanders and seeing the same icons of the same members who were active those years ago and then remembering what it was like last time, for the better maybe but also for the worse, so much worse. I still won't use, can't use, alarms because they bring me back to when I was in Portland, in school, still trying and failing to get to class; I may be a lot better now but I haven't quite healed from how it was then and the reminders of it fucking terrify me.

3. I have rough days. All of these things are interconnected—Devon would probably be able to talk me through some of these bad memories, and so it stings even more that he's not here; I have those bad memories because at my heart I just am, always have been, the sort to have bad days, whether that means some moodiness or a full-on major depressive cycle. But there's something to be said for the simple fact that that is who I am: I can be in the best place, I can get what I want, and I can still feel like shit on a biscuit. I just hate being reminded of it, you know? I hate the fact that nothing will ever make that go away, all of it go forever away. Being depressed is depressing in its own right.

And all that I am full of these thoughts, I'm really not that bad. I'm just blah and feel ugly and don't want to wash my hair and do want to lie in bed and watch TV all day and probably not say a whole lot. In large part I just need some recharge time and adjustment time, because antisocial Juu does not understand this "spend time in someone's company" thing. Then I may need some distraction, so I should eat goddamn chocolate cake if I want chocolate cake (and there is chocolate cake! I just don't want to be the person who eats ALL THE CAKE om nom) and I should figure out how I'm going to manage Starbucks trips without being chaffered everywhere and I'm absolutely looking forward to Valente's reading on Friday because I imagine that will do wonders for my mood. I also need to accept that there is nothing wrong with just having a few bad days—the people that care for me don't begrudge them half as much as I do; if I didn't try so hard to deny them then maybe they wouldn't last so long. I need to accept that they will happen, and are especially like to happen after a few good and high-energy days, because that's how I work even if I hate that that's how I work. I need to stop feeling so fucking guilty about it—like I'm betraying my promises and everyone's expectations of Portland! city of magic and light! It's a wonderful city but it is no miracle cure. I need to be honest, here: this shit happens; this is who I am.

For now: cake and cooking shows, maybe.