(no subject)
I'm starting to wonder what have I left myself behind for.
The question of authenticity, being true to one self, I have a feeling I have left my true self behind at least a year ago or more, and what I had become, may be less anxious but is it still me?
I often feel like I used to be have thoughts, tangled, interesting, like I used to do things for myself and I feel now I am implicitly caught in a processes of proving myself to some faceless being or beings. When have I stopped being me? There were parts of me, sadder, but with beautiful imagination, sentences I've woven used to flow, ideas though nostalgic were sweet. Now I am bare, cynical as ever, but I no longer think outside of the four walls. It may keep me grounded, saner, but I wonder if the price is too high?
Have I stopped doing things cause there was no longer anyone who could about those things with me? Is there an authentic me if I inadvertently absorb the surrounding noise and incorporate it into my actions?
I feel that need to flee again, nothing is really holding me here but my own fear.
I can no longer cry..
The question of authenticity, being true to one self, I have a feeling I have left my true self behind at least a year ago or more, and what I had become, may be less anxious but is it still me?
I often feel like I used to be have thoughts, tangled, interesting, like I used to do things for myself and I feel now I am implicitly caught in a processes of proving myself to some faceless being or beings. When have I stopped being me? There were parts of me, sadder, but with beautiful imagination, sentences I've woven used to flow, ideas though nostalgic were sweet. Now I am bare, cynical as ever, but I no longer think outside of the four walls. It may keep me grounded, saner, but I wonder if the price is too high?
Have I stopped doing things cause there was no longer anyone who could about those things with me? Is there an authentic me if I inadvertently absorb the surrounding noise and incorporate it into my actions?
I feel that need to flee again, nothing is really holding me here but my own fear.
I can no longer cry..