Same day, second entry.

I'm high. I smoked a little bit of weed before leaving my house and now I'm sitting in this park, feeling like the main character, which I in fact am. I love this feeling, the feeling of being high. Everything slows down and I've never been more present. I can feel the music flow through my veins and the wind makes me shiver. Nature is magnified and suddenly, all the fine intricacies of leaves and trees and birds have become so visible to me. 

When I'm high, I forget to be anxious. I forget to fidget and I forget to be paranoid. I forget to care who's looking or what they may be saying. It's the most freeing thing. I feel most real. Like I can see myself most clearly. 

She's sitting at the edge of the field, on a bench under a large mango tree. She has her tote bag and umbrella on her left side. Her left ankle is crossed over her right knee and… she's writing. She's really focused. Her head is bent over and she's leaning into her notebook, like the words are so heavy and they're rushing out and they need more proximity with the note book. She's biting her lip and she proberbly doesn't realise it. She forgot how to spell probably. She remembers now. And now she's smiling. That beautiful angel smile. She forgets, sometimes - a lot of the times - that she's beautiful. That she has a beautiful style. Omo, she's such a softie! An introvert softie. You just have to be there. The introvert urge to be alone for a minute even though you're enjoying your company. The need to be held but the repulsion to random touch. The need to hear silence - live in it - but the equally magnetic desire for the sound of music. Loud sound of music.

Yesterday, I met a guy. He sounds like music. Like a sing-a-long to RnB rap. We danced around art and held hands in the moonlight. You don't believe me? I have evidence.

Being a strict babe is not as hard as I thought. I think I've successfully drawn visible lines around my house and made it clear enough that they're not to be crossed - who can have access and who can't. My house is big enough for everyone I let in, but I still built a safe room. For me. An escape room, maybe. Because even though I love my friendships and love and family, I have to satisfy the innate desires that come with being who I am (introvert, but I no longer indulge in self labelling). Desires, such as the need to be by myself. Plus my house my rules, right?

I'm coming down from my high. I'm sobering up. I know this because everything, even in my periphery, is coming back into focus. I'm starting to feel eyes (real and imaginery) on me. The vibration is fading away and the music is no longer in my veins. Main character una. Time to bounce.