fucking watersheds; tomorrow i promise myself i will be showering and together like i believe in the nothings wrong. and to think, it really isnt, everything is, or will be, even-keeled: im hastening the correction of a long, exhausting, slow starboard tilt. i think once its righted ill feel good about knowing my own longings better than ive been able to intuit for a long time. im scared of my own dedication, here, my own incontrovertible stubborn will, and once i move past the stupidity of the forms my lessons need to take i hope ill find my whitewashed, born-again clean dignity on the other side ready and worthy, more so than id ever really actually hoped for, not without artful dodging of questions that matter - the newly-discovered stubornness actually a pleasant surprise, the demands i make on myself having reassuringly high standards, the things i dont just aspire to but insist on doing are, actually, genuinely, really good, noble in their way. still, my head hurts, a lot.