Just a day, just an ordinary day.
Too scared to go forward and unable to go back - that's where all of us are stuck, it seems. We're frightened of moving forward, and since we haven't discovered the secrets to time travel we're stuck moving forward. It seems to be a perpetual cycle.
I'm really not sure what I have to say. I feel like there's so much and yet so little to discuss. Mostly it's feelings, but not well-thought out feelings.
In general it's anxiety and nerves, not overwhelming by any means, but present nonetheless.
"I've died again." - Amy Lee
It feels like that sometimes, doesn't it? Wow, I think I must sound really depressed right now, but I'm not. Just contemplative. I just feel like some of me dies a little bit everyday and there are these new bits that come to life and they don't feel like mine, or any part of me and I wonder where they come from. Are these thoughts really a part of me? Are these ideas and feelings really mine? Sometimes I'm not sure.
I'm also not sure how to feel about some things.
What's appropriate any more?
Andrea said to me that people like diversity in theory, but when they're actually faced with it they have a hard time actually coping with it. I think she's very correct. We all like the idea of an accepting world, but we can't actually accept anyone... how is that supposed to work again?
Drew told me last night that he didn't feel like he knew who he was. Does anybody? I'm serious - we can say our names and race and religion and major and political affiliation, but does that really tell anyone who we are? And for that matter, if we can't know ourselves fully, can we actually know anyone else?
I know what I like, sometimes I know what I want, I know who the people I like are, I know what I believe and I know what I think and feel. Is that who I am? All of those things combined together?
What about my potential? Or my life experiences? Or all the things people don't really know about me.
Like how I love most of my friends so much it hurts to be away from them. How I still love John even though I know he would have killed me in more ways than one. How I don't view myself as pretty or attractive at all, but I still know how to fake it. How I can make people believe what I want them to. Or how I sometimes have sociopathic, narcissistic urges that I force myself never to act on. What about the fact that most people's pain doesn't phase me but the plight of an animal breaks my heart?
Do we ever really know? I guess not. I like to think I know myself, but I don't think we really ever know anyone else perfectly, as much as we'd like to think we do.
I'm really not sure what I have to say. I feel like there's so much and yet so little to discuss. Mostly it's feelings, but not well-thought out feelings.
In general it's anxiety and nerves, not overwhelming by any means, but present nonetheless.
"I've died again." - Amy Lee
It feels like that sometimes, doesn't it? Wow, I think I must sound really depressed right now, but I'm not. Just contemplative. I just feel like some of me dies a little bit everyday and there are these new bits that come to life and they don't feel like mine, or any part of me and I wonder where they come from. Are these thoughts really a part of me? Are these ideas and feelings really mine? Sometimes I'm not sure.
I'm also not sure how to feel about some things.
What's appropriate any more?
Andrea said to me that people like diversity in theory, but when they're actually faced with it they have a hard time actually coping with it. I think she's very correct. We all like the idea of an accepting world, but we can't actually accept anyone... how is that supposed to work again?
Drew told me last night that he didn't feel like he knew who he was. Does anybody? I'm serious - we can say our names and race and religion and major and political affiliation, but does that really tell anyone who we are? And for that matter, if we can't know ourselves fully, can we actually know anyone else?
I know what I like, sometimes I know what I want, I know who the people I like are, I know what I believe and I know what I think and feel. Is that who I am? All of those things combined together?
What about my potential? Or my life experiences? Or all the things people don't really know about me.
Like how I love most of my friends so much it hurts to be away from them. How I still love John even though I know he would have killed me in more ways than one. How I don't view myself as pretty or attractive at all, but I still know how to fake it. How I can make people believe what I want them to. Or how I sometimes have sociopathic, narcissistic urges that I force myself never to act on. What about the fact that most people's pain doesn't phase me but the plight of an animal breaks my heart?
Do we ever really know? I guess not. I like to think I know myself, but I don't think we really ever know anyone else perfectly, as much as we'd like to think we do.