My mood is better now.

I guess I just needed a change in scenery.

I haven’t been back in L.A. for three weeks now, and I guess I just need to go home every so often to re-center myself.

It could be that, or it could be the fact that my sleep and work schedules are just completely absurd, and it’s fucking with my mind.

This last shift I worked was the first time that my whacked out thoughts surfaced at work, which is disturbing. Seeing all those babies, I thought of her and her daughter, who is now three.

You don’t realize how much time passes until there are kids around, who seem to grow leaps and bounds every time you see them.

But I can’t stay and dwell on this part of my life anymore, frozen in time, locked into place. While it would be folly to deny that this event (or more accurately, this non-event) has significantly shaped my life, and has defined a lot of who I am, it does me no good to keep thinking about it and analyzing it over and over again.

It’s time to move on. Even though the future terrifies me.

I guess that’s a big part of it. It’s easiest to deal with things that you have no control over, whose outcome is already known. I’d rather dwell in the past, as painful as it’s been, instead of trying to shape the future.

I’d rather be my own victim, instead of being the protagonist of my own tale.

It’s been a long time since I crept outside of my comfort zone. I mean, I’m not as painfully shy as I used to be. I sort of know how to make friends. My repetoire of random things to talk about has expanded over the years.

But I really have to change the way I deal with the world. I need to learn how to stop focusing on the negative things, and learn how to concentrate on the positive things. This is going to be one big stretch. But I can’t keep going the way I’ve been going.

But it’s 2:30 a.m., and I’m trying my damndest to stay coherent, and I guess I’m failing miserably. More than a change of the scenery, I need a change of vision. Or rather, Vision™ with a capital “V”.

I’ve got to make these turnings of the years count for something, and I can’t stop growing, no matter how terrifying it is, and no matter how much it hurts.