You can only be as cold as you let yourself be
I currently have no purpose in life. None. My goals are set as far in the future as passing my current classes and nothing else. There is nothing that I'm working on or putting any real intrest in. I've spent many, many nights lying awake in bed thinking about something that might fit, but nothing comes up.
This worries me.
I'm worried because there's a large part of me that wants it to stay that way. I know I need something to strive towards, but I don't really want it. Something about that feels wrong. I need something that I don't want and am not sure if it exists. It leaves a big empty inside that I can't really feel, but I know it's there
This mysterious haze has settled over a maze with infinite exits, and I'm in the middle screaming for peace. I want to wander the twisting walls and explore the dead ends for what life I have left, but I get lost in getting lost. Every turn is somewhere I'm afraid to go, every exit an empty blessing that I refuse to believe. I restlessly tour what I can force myself into. I want so badly to just sit down, but I can't. I simply can't. The maze itself propels me through it to the point that I don't know if I'm deciding the path or the path is deciding me. I know the exits, but my doubt makes them all impossibly high; they tower over my insecurity and I run. My paths are well beaten. Each exit is found and denied or denies me. I don't know what to do. I'm lost.
I can't seem to accept myself for what I am. I can't let a compliment slip into my skull without a shadow of doubt the size of New Zealand telling me it isn't true. I know for a fact that I am entirely competent at almost everything I do or want to do, but I refuse to believe myself. I can't believe me. Me. How the hell can I not trust myself? I would assume that I know myself better than anyone, yet I don't know myself at all.
The only thing I can concieve that I am really decent with is my mind. That's only because it has been beaten into me by almost everyone I know and everything I've done. Thinking is probably the only thing I consider my self "good" at, because I'm almost always doing it. That along with the beating in thing have accumulated to "really decent" (give you an idea of my self-esteem?). The problem is that I'm fine with feeling sub-par, but I shouldn't. I have the fucking potential, but I' just wasting it like a tree that bears some delicious fruit is in my backyard, but I don't go pick any fruit and I have a huge fence around my house (because the neighborhood kids are hooligans).
If I just let myself revel in the side that's fine with what I think of myself, I'm content and happy as a puppy (thank you Fuck It). As long as I don't allow the thoughts of what I could do interfere, I'm all warm and fuzzy inside. Tht brings us to the subject line that lets me walk around in shorts and a T-shirt in freezing weather even if I am from The South: You can only be as cold as you let yourself be.
P.S. - I know this sounds like I'm begging for compliments, but no. Just No. Don't. No.
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Plain quote: "Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them." - Old Bill Shakes
David Quote: "Dude, you gotta ditch Shamu and go get your Kool-Aid back." - Not the Shamu that we know. Just some Shamu in Raliegh
Emotional Charger(s): Myself, judging from the nature of this entry...
Last consumables consumed: Food- Chex Mix .... Drink- Dr Pepper (there's no period, so it's not really "doctor", just "dr")
Debacle de 100: Yet there was little anticipation in Jack’s eyes as the carriage plodded down the country road. He was far too preoccupied to consider crawling through the dirt examining each bug as it came. Seeing Grandpa Joe was only an afterthought of the trip. What was in Jack’s eyes was a void of feeling. A sharp emptiness that could pierce a soul and reveal nothing. Behind those dead eyes lay memories of another sort. His parents’ withered bodies writhing in pain, the doctor’s hopeless words, the pine boxes being lowered into the ground side by side.
This worries me.
I'm worried because there's a large part of me that wants it to stay that way. I know I need something to strive towards, but I don't really want it. Something about that feels wrong. I need something that I don't want and am not sure if it exists. It leaves a big empty inside that I can't really feel, but I know it's there
This mysterious haze has settled over a maze with infinite exits, and I'm in the middle screaming for peace. I want to wander the twisting walls and explore the dead ends for what life I have left, but I get lost in getting lost. Every turn is somewhere I'm afraid to go, every exit an empty blessing that I refuse to believe. I restlessly tour what I can force myself into. I want so badly to just sit down, but I can't. I simply can't. The maze itself propels me through it to the point that I don't know if I'm deciding the path or the path is deciding me. I know the exits, but my doubt makes them all impossibly high; they tower over my insecurity and I run. My paths are well beaten. Each exit is found and denied or denies me. I don't know what to do. I'm lost.
I can't seem to accept myself for what I am. I can't let a compliment slip into my skull without a shadow of doubt the size of New Zealand telling me it isn't true. I know for a fact that I am entirely competent at almost everything I do or want to do, but I refuse to believe myself. I can't believe me. Me. How the hell can I not trust myself? I would assume that I know myself better than anyone, yet I don't know myself at all.
The only thing I can concieve that I am really decent with is my mind. That's only because it has been beaten into me by almost everyone I know and everything I've done. Thinking is probably the only thing I consider my self "good" at, because I'm almost always doing it. That along with the beating in thing have accumulated to "really decent" (give you an idea of my self-esteem?). The problem is that I'm fine with feeling sub-par, but I shouldn't. I have the fucking potential, but I' just wasting it like a tree that bears some delicious fruit is in my backyard, but I don't go pick any fruit and I have a huge fence around my house (because the neighborhood kids are hooligans).
If I just let myself revel in the side that's fine with what I think of myself, I'm content and happy as a puppy (thank you Fuck It). As long as I don't allow the thoughts of what I could do interfere, I'm all warm and fuzzy inside. Tht brings us to the subject line that lets me walk around in shorts and a T-shirt in freezing weather even if I am from The South: You can only be as cold as you let yourself be.
P.S. - I know this sounds like I'm begging for compliments, but no. Just No. Don't. No.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Plain quote: "Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them." - Old Bill Shakes
David Quote: "Dude, you gotta ditch Shamu and go get your Kool-Aid back." - Not the Shamu that we know. Just some Shamu in Raliegh
Emotional Charger(s): Myself, judging from the nature of this entry...
Last consumables consumed: Food- Chex Mix .... Drink- Dr Pepper (there's no period, so it's not really "doctor", just "dr")
Debacle de 100: Yet there was little anticipation in Jack’s eyes as the carriage plodded down the country road. He was far too preoccupied to consider crawling through the dirt examining each bug as it came. Seeing Grandpa Joe was only an afterthought of the trip. What was in Jack’s eyes was a void of feeling. A sharp emptiness that could pierce a soul and reveal nothing. Behind those dead eyes lay memories of another sort. His parents’ withered bodies writhing in pain, the doctor’s hopeless words, the pine boxes being lowered into the ground side by side.