(no subject)
look.
it's august. my god.
i think sometimes of the future. of my life as an old woman. sitting in a wooden rocking chair on a wrap-around front porch with a worn afghan blanket covering my brittle knees. with nothing left of my past life, save for jumbled memories. what a stereotype. but that's all i can possibly imagine of myself. of anyone my age getting old. this, this "now" will all be gone, soon. everything is just a blur. and i wonder, sometimes, what exactly am i doing? i mean, i enjoy myself quite a bit. i have access to just about anything to create a feeling of happiness, an idea of contentment. but yet, yet i have an uneasy sense in the pit of my stomach, that i am missing something. i like to be alone too much. but when i isolate myself, i feel lonely and ache for something solid. i don't know. but for now, i do things day by day. i get up way too early and go to work, to school, to life. i interact with my friends and socialize like a good human. i have fun. i am fun.
maybe i should take up a religion.
maybe i shouldn't procrastinate so much.
maybe i should exercise more.
maybe i shouldn't overanalyze everything.
maybe i should take a trip.
maybe i should do more drugs. or less.
maybe i shouldn't dread things.
maybe i should just wait and watch.
maybe i just need reassurance that i am not wasting my life on things that are inconsequential. things that i will never be able to pick out of the whole, rich, pattern of my thoughts when i am wrinkled and squinty, and think, "holy shit, that was amazing, i WAS amazing..."
everything will ok, right?
it's august. my god.
i think sometimes of the future. of my life as an old woman. sitting in a wooden rocking chair on a wrap-around front porch with a worn afghan blanket covering my brittle knees. with nothing left of my past life, save for jumbled memories. what a stereotype. but that's all i can possibly imagine of myself. of anyone my age getting old. this, this "now" will all be gone, soon. everything is just a blur. and i wonder, sometimes, what exactly am i doing? i mean, i enjoy myself quite a bit. i have access to just about anything to create a feeling of happiness, an idea of contentment. but yet, yet i have an uneasy sense in the pit of my stomach, that i am missing something. i like to be alone too much. but when i isolate myself, i feel lonely and ache for something solid. i don't know. but for now, i do things day by day. i get up way too early and go to work, to school, to life. i interact with my friends and socialize like a good human. i have fun. i am fun.
maybe i should take up a religion.
maybe i shouldn't procrastinate so much.
maybe i should exercise more.
maybe i shouldn't overanalyze everything.
maybe i should take a trip.
maybe i should do more drugs. or less.
maybe i shouldn't dread things.
maybe i should just wait and watch.
maybe i just need reassurance that i am not wasting my life on things that are inconsequential. things that i will never be able to pick out of the whole, rich, pattern of my thoughts when i am wrinkled and squinty, and think, "holy shit, that was amazing, i WAS amazing..."
everything will ok, right?