From the bottom, looking up...
I feel disappointed, at times with myself. I feel like I'm not giving it att I have. Like I'm just there doing stuff, and it seems to work out for a while, I guess. It's been working to some end that I don't really care either about or for it. Like all the facets of my life are merely circumstantial and the contents of my being are merely by-products of the series of sequential/progressive events that have lead up to now. My choices only feel like they of a free will.
I mostly feel like I was never really paying attention to the shit that was going on in my life. Sometimes it seems like I have no focus and am easily distracted by mild fantasies which are only partly realistic. As much as I want to be a part of the moment and seize the day and be that dashing amazing persona, I often find myself drifting away from the moment. My actions feels so half-heated and insincere at times. My biggest fear is that I'll stay this way until my death.
Of all the things that I have pushing me forward, the horrible sense of shame is what holds me back. Like a knife I've held too tight, I don't know if I have the strength to endure the pain of opening up and letting go. I cannot heal otherwise.
I mostly feel like I was never really paying attention to the shit that was going on in my life. Sometimes it seems like I have no focus and am easily distracted by mild fantasies which are only partly realistic. As much as I want to be a part of the moment and seize the day and be that dashing amazing persona, I often find myself drifting away from the moment. My actions feels so half-heated and insincere at times. My biggest fear is that I'll stay this way until my death.
Of all the things that I have pushing me forward, the horrible sense of shame is what holds me back. Like a knife I've held too tight, I don't know if I have the strength to endure the pain of opening up and letting go. I cannot heal otherwise.