now and again it seems worse than it is..
time feels like its moving so fast, but im not really getting much accomplished. i cant physically, literally look at my accomplishments, so it feels like nothing is being done at all with my life. its a lie, its trite, but thats the way it appears. its like when i have dreams that im trying to run, but my feet wont move and my eyes wont open, and im paralyzed, and there's nothing i can do but become filled with frustration and self-loathing. always some degree of self-loathing.
im happy, i am. but somehow its never enough. sometimes i just want to cry. to sit in my room and lock the world out and cry. about what, im not quite sure. my past? i cant change it, so whats the point? my future? im unsure, but who isnt? its easy to be confused and insecure about what the future brings. i have a plan, and i hope to stick with it this time. the best way to learn is through experience. this i have learned the hard way, many times over.
lately ive been wanting to write. something beautiful and with meaning. melancholy and moving. i cant seem to find the write words or timing or creativity that i am lacking. i think im trying too hard. i think i KNOW im trying too hard.
im growing up. and its scary. but i feel held back. from love. from living the way i want. there's always some weight on my shoulders, some boy i have to tell over and over again to clean up after themselves. sometimes i want to disppear on a whim. sometimes i want to be invisible to everyone. i just want to be alone with myself, my wounded spirit, and write and cry and not live for a little while. i dont want to die, but im tired of living. isnt there some sort of idle state i can hide in? im not being fair. life isnt. i know. i know.
so my night off has suddenly turned into work. work work work. i just wanted some time to myself. but again, i'll surround myself in life, trying my damnedest to make it through with a smile plastered on my face. its artificial, but they dont know. they dont know at all.
and im okay with that.
im happy, i am. but somehow its never enough. sometimes i just want to cry. to sit in my room and lock the world out and cry. about what, im not quite sure. my past? i cant change it, so whats the point? my future? im unsure, but who isnt? its easy to be confused and insecure about what the future brings. i have a plan, and i hope to stick with it this time. the best way to learn is through experience. this i have learned the hard way, many times over.
lately ive been wanting to write. something beautiful and with meaning. melancholy and moving. i cant seem to find the write words or timing or creativity that i am lacking. i think im trying too hard. i think i KNOW im trying too hard.
im growing up. and its scary. but i feel held back. from love. from living the way i want. there's always some weight on my shoulders, some boy i have to tell over and over again to clean up after themselves. sometimes i want to disppear on a whim. sometimes i want to be invisible to everyone. i just want to be alone with myself, my wounded spirit, and write and cry and not live for a little while. i dont want to die, but im tired of living. isnt there some sort of idle state i can hide in? im not being fair. life isnt. i know. i know.
so my night off has suddenly turned into work. work work work. i just wanted some time to myself. but again, i'll surround myself in life, trying my damnedest to make it through with a smile plastered on my face. its artificial, but they dont know. they dont know at all.
and im okay with that.