Often, I use this space to rant. I believe I will be doing the same now.
I'm not sure if it's because I am tired. I'm not sure if this is a legitimate feeling. Whatever. There's so much I would like to write. Yet when I do sit down to do so, the words do not find their way to the screen.
This is going to be random.
For the sake of being terse, I am simply going to say I feel inadequate in most areas of my life. In school, definitely. In some aspects of my personal life, most definitely. In deciding what to do after graduation, yup.
It seems like I find myself knowing exactly where the problems are, and I know how to solve it (kind of?) but I don't do it. I don't think that makes much sense.
I don't like being negative, usually, and I don't like saying "don't" so often in a short piece such as this one. This is no way to spend one's time, wallowing in shallow despair about things I can't exactly pinpoint. But I know these things are solvable.
At the same time, there's nothing wrong with admitting that I'm not 100% happy. There's nothing wrong with admitting there are parts of life that are not where I want them to be. There's nothing wrong with admitting that I am frustrated that a boy I have the unfortunate circumstance of actually liking is in a relationship with someone else. That's part of the human experience: we have our ups, our downs, our in-betweens. Everything is not always where we want them to be.
It passes.We overcome it. It comes back. And we vent, we cry, we laugh, we write to do so.
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Thoughts as I ride the A train.
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Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. - A.E.
2 comments:
No one is ever really 100% happy. That's one of the few guarantees that life has to offer, aside from the guarantees of change and that all things must eventually come to an end.
"It passes. We overcome it. It comes back. And we vent, we cry, we laugh, we write to do so."
We write to make sense of the seemingly senseless, to purge ourselves of our emotions, to evoke some kind of feeling or reaction in others in the hopes that we can commiserate in something bigger than all of our dilemmas and delights combined. We write to be heard, even when there's no one listening. We write because it's just as essential to us as breathing, eating, sleeping, and yes, even shitting. We write because we need to get all the random, irrational, unidentified mess of thoughts and feelings out of our systems.
We write to purge, to organize, to share, to make peace with ourselves, to share our insights with the rest of the world, and to celebrate our lives in the wake of our rantings and ravings about life, love, and our often misguided pursuit of some kind of happiness.
I hope you're feeling better after all this time, my dear.
I know exactly how you feel; there are some days in my life when I feel like utter SLIME.
It helps to perform some mindless and menial task to take one's mind off the stupid emotions driving one to distraction. I often pick up some knitting or read some story I've read front to back, back to front a thousand times (only three books in the world I can do so with).
Or, of course, you can delve further and contemplate your faults, trying not to be too self-deprecating and try thinking of ways you can manipulate yourself into being different. I find such contemplation necessary to my life-long goal of being less of an asshole. Of course it doesn't help that I view myself as an utter incompetent, but I hope you don't have the same problem.
As a final note, the title of this blog had me snickering. Well played.
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