I find the world overwhelming sometimes. There’s too much going on. I keep to myself to keep the calm. The world is crazy. And sometimes the opinions of others are just too much. Mainly because I can’t understand why so many people have such strong ones about things that don’t concern them. How other people live their lives. How they look. How they dress. The judgement. People who think they’ve found the key. They know how things should be done. It’s how their family does it. How they’ve always done it. And their pain is always the greatest. Nobody else has suffered like they have. That’s why they’re allowed to preach.
I wish there was a way to tune it all out, sometimes. So I could just relax a little. So I could breathe.
I’ve never really known what kind of girl I am. My personality is ever-changing. Maybe it’s because I’ve contemplated everything in life so deeply and constantly. I know that I know nothing. I’m worn-out by the stubborn certainty that most people carry themselves with. It’s an illusion. Why is it so hard to find an open mind in the middle of all the noise? I need to shut it out sometimes. There’s too much going on around me. Too much talking. No listening. Not even an attempt. I’m not perfect. I’m biased sometimes. Everybody is.
But I’m not talking about people having opinions. I just don’t feel like there’s any wiggle room for ideas. There’s always a defiant resistance anytime you want to pick someone’s brain. You feel misunderstood everytime you want to play devil’s advocate. So, now, no one can pick mine. I have to know you first. Because my mind is never still. I can’t tell you who I am right now. I don’t even know if we can connect in any meaningful way. We’ll just scratch the surface. I’m weary about going deep. Maybe we’ll see one day.
Social interactions have always been exhausting to me. But it got easier once I dropped the pretense. I’m not trying to force it anymore. When I have nothing to say, I’ll be quiet. When I have too much to say, I’ll stumble over my words. Sometimes, I’ll be too much for some people. Not enough for others. I’m working on being okay with that. The people I lose were not for me. I wish nothing but the best for them. I want everyone to live their lives as they please. I hope they get the chance to pursue their happiness. I hope that for me too.
I’m trying to make a wall of paintings for my mother. She just turned 60. She loved one of my earlier paintings so I’m trying to make the rest in the same aesthetic. Sort of yellow-black-white-ish and nature themed.
Everyday. It starts up again every morning. Where do I start? What do I do? I’ve never been sure of anything and that’s what I’m devoting my life to. Why not? Life has never been black and white to me. I’m whatever version of me I am today. All because I learned something new yesterday and it affected my entire being. I’m too sensitive. Too soft. Yet, sometimes, I don’t feel at all. I’m powerless. And there’s nothing in particular I want to feel.
But all it really takes is one push for the real world to crash down on me again. I’ll be forced back into reality. Into this body. I’m once again a participant. And as always I’m not sure that I like it. This world asks too much of me. It will never be a natural transition. It always feels like someone’s shaking me awake. It’s intrusive. But it’s okay. I think I need it. I need people from the outside to give me a push. I’d be lost with just myself. I’d be nothing with just myself.
So, yeah, I’m still stuck in the in-between. School or work is on the agenda. It’s not completely up to me right now (and that’s a relief). I’m waiting for some answers. And I need to ask some more. I also need to calm down a bit. It feels like I should have my life figured out by now. But I keep comparing my path to those just crossing it. Everybody has an opinion. I shouldn’t care. I still do. I’m still trying to prove myself because I was the girl no one believed in.
Enough self-pity. I swear, I don’t complain this much in real life. I’m also thinking while I’m typing. Nothing is scripted. It’s all my brain spilling out. Sorry about the mess.
So, I’m still in the middle of my forever life crisis, wondering where to go. I was painting a lot during quarantine and I found it both soothing and therapeutic. I’m now thinking about posting some of it on here. Would that be a good idea? I never thought when I started this that it would be any kind of art blog. But… why not? That’s what life is about. Change. If you follow me you know that I’m not a consistent uploader. My mind wanders a way sometimes. This would be another way for me to remain creative. I’ve been really emotional lately, and I don’t really know how to express it. Anyway, stick around (if you want to)
They don’t. The past still catches you off guard once in a while and you feel sad, bitter, angry, hurt or all of the above. That pang comes out of nowhere and ruins your entire day. You start arguing with yourself. There was so much left unsaid. You try to scream it all into the void. But it won’t help. You’ll never get to say your piece. It doesn’t matter. There’s no one to say it to. Those it may concern have moved on. There’s nothing left for them to say.
But I don’t know why I can’t just push the thought away when it comes. I have to let it linger. Simmer. I have to go over it. Again and again. I’m looking for something. A reason. I wanna go through it again to see if there was something I missed. Clarity. There must be something in there.
There isn’t. I feel worse now. And I keep letting it happen.
I struggle sometimes with other people. Even If I like them I will always find something to overcome. I don’t care about disagreement. It’s not about that. It’s like there’s a glitch for me in every conversation. Every time I meet someone new it starts all over again. I have to ease myself into it. Every new beginning with someone is like a broken record. It can be terrifying. And also sometimes a little exciting. I’m hoping that one day it will be more exciting than terrifying.
It’s uncomfortable. Trying to explain yourself to someone. You’re giving tidbits of your personality every time you speak and hope they won’t misinterpret any part of you. I don’t understand how it can flow so naturally to some. Don’t you ever stop and think about what you’re saying? Who am I today? Am I just saying this so the other person will like me? I disagree and now I have to challenge them. Do I dare?
So, yeah. I’ve been gone a while. My thoughts seem to run away before I can catch them. But, I’m here now. Sort of. My life hasn’t changed much and yet I’m constantly changing. On the inside I mean. I’m getting a perspective, I guess. Who am I? Why am I here? And all that jazz.
Most importantly: what do I want? I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I might not want what everyone else wants; and that, that’s ok. But sometimes I think I do. At least aspects of it. This is the ultimate first world problem here, but sometimes It’s frightening being so… free. I almost wish someone else would make my decisions for me. And then I’ll have to live with them. At least that way it won’t be my fault if everything falls apart.
How do the others just decide? This is something I’ve been struggling with my whole life. And because of this I’m not really free. I’m a slave to ALL the choices I make. Even those who may seem insignificant. They all connect in significant ways for me. It’s do or die every time.
I feel like I’ve been slipping in and out of my mind for my entire life. I’m not sure who I am so I let the day decide who I should be. It simplifies things, but it’s not very stable. I run away from every opportunity to stop and think about who I am and where I’m going. I don’t want to think about it. I just want to “be” without having to know myself. Mostly because I’m not sure “myself” is a real person. I’ve always felt out of synch with the rest of the universe. And maybe that’s okay.
But there has to be a middleground between normal, everyday person and out of your fucking mind. I think that’s precisely where I am. I can’t relate to the normals, yet I’m not sufficiently insane. Not enough to be locked up or lose touch with reality completely. My little touches of madness are what makes me unique, but what keeps me sane is what’s stifling my creativity. How do I cope with this?
Are there other inbetweeners out there? How do you deal with it(life)?
