Uncertainty.
everytime i finally find myself, she runs away.
I don't even know where to begin. I just feel like I need to pour myself onto paper. Things are up and down. I'm reunited with my partner in crime, but our renegade bunch is now down a man. The circumstances are poor; this week is littered with debt, unintentional law-breaking, death, heartbreak, birthdays, work, breakdowns, blowouts, meltdowns, and that sick anticipation in the heavy part of your belly that grows while you stand outside the principal's office.
Previously vanquished insecurities are arising inside of me and that old familiar whisper pointing out every shortcoming is making an encore. I suppose it's to be expected, but that doesn't make it any easier, really. We were musing tonight over the fact that it's a somewhat comforting place to be, desolation, as it's familiar territory. Faced with an abundance of yes, we're unsure of which direction to take, whereas obstacles and roadblocks almost lead the way with their puzzling challenges and our makeshift labyrinths over and under and through.
It can't possibly be normal to feel most like myself when I'm in the throes of questioning who I am.
I'm just so tired of feeling like anybody.
It's too much like being nobody at all.