a pensive moment.
i know i'm young, but lately i keep thinking to myself, "is that all there is?"
there are so many things that i want to do. but i like what i'm doing now. and i seem to be pretty good at it. and i can't afford to try much else, really. so i wonder if maybe i'm stuck, and i don't think that's necessarily such a bad thing, but i wonder if maybe there's something i'm missing. and that makes me sad.
i wonder if i've missed out on the great love of my life. and that makes me miserable, because really, what did i even have? i didn't have those quiet moments when you just sit with your partner, cuddling on the couch, mindlessly watching tv. i didn't have those romantic gestures that make you feel like you're alive, like you're truly loved. i didn't have those moments of walking down the street trying to kiss and walk at the same time, laughing at yourselves for how silly it all is. i had some great moments, it's true. moments i'll never forget. and maybe it's actually worse that way, because i know how close i was. but there's so much i didn't have, and now i don't have any of it.
and i wonder if i'll ever feel like i belong again. if there will ever be a group of people that accepts me so completely, and that feels so much like family. i watch as people drift apart, and sure, they all still love each other (and me), but as we wander off to our different worlds, i wonder how it will all work. if it'll ever feel like it did. and i wonder whether it was even there in the first place, or if it was all just yet another of my elaborate fantasies.
and my body keeps failing me -- or rather, i keep failing it. i tolerate chronic pain just because i can, because it's easier than trying to make it go away, and because i'm not strong or brave enough to take the steps to actually get on the path towards eliminating it. i can't bring myself to treat it right and this is how it repays me. and now i'm sitting here, alone in the dark, in my cold, empty bed, and i just don't know how things'll get better. or why they should, even. because if this *is* all there is, then they won't get any "better". because there *is* no "better". this is all there is.
"you're always preaching not to be numb when that's how you thrive, you pretend to create and observe when you really detach from being alive....."
mwah.
~a
but -- isn't this how the Everyman survives, exists? by just not thinking?