possibly one of the most important things,
So much has been running through my head lately. It's abnormal, not in the sense that it is odd, but more so that it is just.. not the norm. For me at least. It's bitter sweet really, I don't know what to make of it. Which is ironic because I have a personal talent for writing, analyzing and picking up on feelings - but not actually feeling them. That's my weak area, experience. Well maybe it's not experience as much as it is execution or application. I experience things, and they affect me and yet they have no real impact. I think the overall effect is a subconscious one that I am too cautious to acknowledge so instead of ignoring it, I let it build. And build. And occasionally I burst. But not often or dramatic enough to change, even to question.
I want to know if this is dangerous, I want to ask someone. The only real feeling that emerges from this revelation is nervousness. Fear of the final result. Like those girls that eat, and eat and eat but stay skinny. And they laugh about compulsive eating habits - until the fat girl begins to laugh too. Only she is not laughing at the metabolism's unusual skill, but rather, its collapse. That's my emotional... destiny, for lack of a better word.
The problem is - I want to feel. Oddly enough, against personal presumption, I have been lately. And what's odder, is that it IS enticing. Despite the seldom but apparent lows, I like it. And when I consider the causes, one person comes to mind. And when he comes to mind, there are no lows, just strong fears of never having the chance. The chance to capture the highs, to never fully experience the good and the bad, and the real. And so I apply this to the rest of my life.
I am missing things, parts of my own individual environment and world and genius. I am missing a father that I only met once or twice. A father that did not want me but could be dead. I often say I don't think about him, don't necessarily need him, that I. am. okay. And for the most part, all of that is true. But I do think about thinking about him, or if I could potentially need him, or that maybe by knowing him - I would be BETTER than okay. And so that plays a role in the many factors that keep me spiraling in this illusion of a life where I'm not just surviving, but actually living.
Unfortunately, I don't quite know just yet what home actually is. And that's okay, it really is. I don't think one's "home" is decided upon birth. I think it depends on your path and decisions, as to where you (happily) end up. I do, however, know that mine will involve water. Unless my husband is willing to order pounds of sand and turn an entire bedroom into a shower, I have to be near the ocean. No more than three hours, or I may die. Will. die.
I've also been thinking about children lately. There is no intention of baring them anytime soon, but I've been rethinking my theories. In the process of considering and studying religion, one thing has become completely apparent to me. In my opinion, the purpose of life is to provide and contribute. I think we were created under the requirement that we give back to the earth. Whether that means in upkeep or reproduction, I don't know. But I do know that the two are closely related and without each other, they would fail to exist. So I wonder to myself, why not children? Why not do my part? I worry though, that without the persuasion of a husband, I may not want to physically give birth. I'd rather do my part by adopting, removing children from an unstable and potentially dangerous environment, and loving them with every fucking piece of me. This is probably forever away, but it's so indescribably important to me. In the process of better understanding myself and my belief system, I have changed my mind, which ultimately means that I'm becoming more aware of my identity.
Honestly, I think I've reached a time in my life where a new obstacle has risen. Except, I don't think this one has an particular focus. The purpose may just be to help me deal with feeling, and understanding myself so that later in life, when obstacles larger and scarier looking than ever emerge or the skeletons learn to turn a door knob, I will be ready. After all, it's not the roommate I'm beginning to hate that matters, but the best friend I need to make more effort to see. It's not the just below excellent grade I'm receiving, but the missing motivation to attend class. It's not the extra 5 pounds I could lose, but my inability to eat healthier and exercise on a regular basis. The outcome will never be as powerful and rewarding as the drive.
Right? Right.