Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Friday, October 29, 2010: Venting...

They say that if you keep writing eventually something will come to mind and begin to flow. I just don’t know what is bothering me right now, but something is… It’s just like something is off balance. I can’t explain it. I don’t know what it is that is off balance, but there’s something not connecting. I remember being in McDermid’s class my sophomore and junior year and always having her tell me that if I couldn’t think of anything to write to just keep writing “I don’t know what to write” until something came to mind. For some reason that never worked and I don’t know what will. I mean rambling on and on is really easy for me, and quite honestly will generally lead to the source of distraught and out of place feelings if I keep writing long enough. It’s just the time it takes to actually reach those feelings, if I even do.

I hide. I hide from all sorts of things. I do it on a daily basis. Sometimes I don’t even know who I am because sometimes it’s gets to the point where the mask is so engraved into my person that it begins to alter the person on the inside completely. Honestly though, I haven’t known who I am for a long time, I’m undefined. I suppose in ways that’s not necessarily a bad thing, then again I would like answers to some of my questions.

Maybe my problem is I search and search for answers. For someone or something to explain the things I don’t know the answers to. Sometimes with a little searching we find those answers, other times we don’t have any idea ever. I just wish that I wouldn’t be so oblivious to some of the things that are right in front of me. I know I have people who love me and care about me and would do so much for me, but I feel so alone and I don’t understand it. I don’t understand how I can feel so abandoned and so out of place in this world. I don’t understand how things can get so bad, why we can suffer so much and search forever to heal it and it just stays within you digging at the person you are.

In ways I just wish I could quit. I wish I could just give up and run away and not have to worry about it all. Sometimes I wonder if being alone would be easier than being around people at all, but the confusion, the contradicting thoughts are just so hard to deal with sometimes. I just wish for something to be different. Actually I wish for lots of things to be different. I just wish too much. Maybe I find comfort in the fact that perhaps there’s something that would change. That perhaps by me wishing for a difference, there will be a difference.

I know that people say when you write or talk things out it actually makes things better. For me I’m not sure that’s the case.

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