(no subject)
I think the fact that I care about very different things in my life is somewhat frightening to me. I’ve done a considerable amount of changing this past year. By not caring for the petty things that used to bother me endlessly, I find myself feeling less than myself. It is amazing how something so positive can seem so negative.
I find myself trapped inside myself much of the time. I used to find comfort in that in some twisted way, even when I was tormenting myself, even when the pain got so bad I wanted to punch a knife through my stomach. I have been more petrified of my own mind this past year than I have in close to 15 years.
Maybe, this is what growing up is like. Maybe, this is me becoming a true adult. Maybe, I’m just starting to feel my body aging. I can’t wrap my head around “can’t”s because I am far too ambitious to accept that I can’t achieve anything I want to. I don’t understand why I trail off whenever my body hiccups. I don’t understand why living inside of my body seems so foreign to me. How can I let the fear of my body depleting affect my mind and spirit?
Last year, on this day, I had the experience that led me to this place. I thought that I was dying, and the only thing that I could think about is what I would be leaving behind. You’d think that that’d be enough to keep me focused on what life is really all about, but with all of the changes, I found myself retreating into this seemingly endless horror I’d created for myself. Or had I? Did I really do that to myself?
Truth be told, I was heading down that path any way if things continued on the way that they were. I doubt that this is some parallel universe that I was never meant to live in. I know I’m being tested. I know that this was all for the best. I know that I will continue to grow, just as I have.
I know there will come a day when I stop being afraid to live my life. I can see it coming, but I’m not there yet.
I find myself trapped inside myself much of the time. I used to find comfort in that in some twisted way, even when I was tormenting myself, even when the pain got so bad I wanted to punch a knife through my stomach. I have been more petrified of my own mind this past year than I have in close to 15 years.
Maybe, this is what growing up is like. Maybe, this is me becoming a true adult. Maybe, I’m just starting to feel my body aging. I can’t wrap my head around “can’t”s because I am far too ambitious to accept that I can’t achieve anything I want to. I don’t understand why I trail off whenever my body hiccups. I don’t understand why living inside of my body seems so foreign to me. How can I let the fear of my body depleting affect my mind and spirit?
Last year, on this day, I had the experience that led me to this place. I thought that I was dying, and the only thing that I could think about is what I would be leaving behind. You’d think that that’d be enough to keep me focused on what life is really all about, but with all of the changes, I found myself retreating into this seemingly endless horror I’d created for myself. Or had I? Did I really do that to myself?
Truth be told, I was heading down that path any way if things continued on the way that they were. I doubt that this is some parallel universe that I was never meant to live in. I know I’m being tested. I know that this was all for the best. I know that I will continue to grow, just as I have.
I know there will come a day when I stop being afraid to live my life. I can see it coming, but I’m not there yet.