I have always been one to turn my own shortcomings, my own mistakes, my own upsets into a joke. I always say that I would do just about everything for a good story. My pain, my moments of weakness, my regrets, all things that I have twisted in an attempt to benefit from them through the means of storytelling or convincing myself that they give me experience; moments of real, unadulterated life. Never have I had any particular reason to be confident enough to do so, not having any unique talent or strength, but never have I experienced that haunting feeling of self-doubt that one reads about in books. I was not prepared. As usual, I feel that I did something wrong. There is no correct or incorrect way to handle a life; there is no intrinsic teenage experience, I know. But despite the words, the pages, the chapters, the novels, I did not expect this.
I am not an unsure person. When I want something, I do everything I can to reach it. I do not tend to recognize boundaries, or, at any rate, I do not tend to let them be what stops me. But how do I motivate myself to go after something if I do not know what to go after? How do I go after something without the means to attain it or the ability to reach those means? Why is it all of the sudden becoming a stalemate? Step one, figure out what you want. Step two, get it. That is who I am and that is the only person I want to be, but my resources are wearing thin. I cannot get what I want this time without it being detrimental to my life and my future. The less of two evils, whatever makes me less miserable, those are my options.
Everyone around me is finding their niche, slipping into routine that they enjoy and being comfortable. I detest routine and comfort is something I only associate with pajamas and a mug of hot chocolate; comfort is not a word I ever want to use to describe my life. I want discomfort and I want options. I want to have the ability to attain what it is that I think I want, but I do no have faith in myself or my abilities; I am losing my sense of trust and I no longer believe in myself.
My floor is loud, the doors are loud, people are loud, my room is loud, my thoughts are loud and the beating of my heart is the loudest of them all. Screaming at me; telling me exactly what I want and reminding me what it is that I cannot have. Not now, maybe not ever. Everything about tonight is loud.
& I am searching for a certainty
that I can never find
all the dreams and aspirations
that are swimming in my mind
& if I get too close to finding out
what I appeared to say
the ideas that I once had
always seem to slip away.
- Neverending Summer by Dayplayer.
