I was on my way back to my apartment this afternoon when I began to mentally compose this blog. Hungover, exhausted, and frustrated, it was fairly easy to keep a flow going. But now as I sit here in my hunter green Snuggie (yes, I am really wearing a Snuggie) I'm finding it more and more difficult to revert back to that flow.

I suppose it's all relative.

I walked unusually slow today. Yeah, sure, my back is killing me, my leg muscles are tight, my head is throbbing, but I could have picked up the pace just a bit. I didn't. I wanted to think. I was outside in the clean, fresh air, just taking my time. No hurry whatsoever. I tried to take in the natural beauty of Eugene. I've been so clogged up with all this bad, all this negativity. I needed to take some time for myself.

It's also easier to distract your heart and your head when you're outside. I'm able to throw my soul into the trees, or the wind, or the wispy white clouds in the sky. I get to take back my heart, my head, my being and overwhelm nature with it. I needed this walk.

It's all relative...

I've always been much too passionate for my own good. I feel very alone in the way that I attach myself to specific things. I have never known anyone to tie themselves to something the way that I do. When I care, I care with everything in me. It's never just a single piece, it is always much more than necessary or desired. I think that's why I get confused as often as I do. My body is constantly switching gears from one things to another, one person to the next. It takes a toll on me. Not that I care about someone, then the next minute I'm over them. Not at all. There's always a piece of me that stays with everyone I care about. A more significant piece is left with the ones who mean more. My body is constantly readjusting to fit the situation. Or at least, it attempts to.

I think it's all relative.