biding time til things get better

I hate this half-lived life that I've been living. Most days, I can cope with it, I can fool myself into thinking, hey its not so bad what I have. And then there are these dark days, when I feel decidedly self destructive, bent on trampling over what I have built, on blowing away this precariously balanced house of cards with a huff. These are the days when I hate everything about my life, when I question the choices I have made. And yet, and yet I still wonder, if I had chosen another path would I be happier? Would it be more than this half-lived life that I have built and gotten comfortable in and have now grown to resent? I wonder if there are other people out there like me, pretending to bide their time till things get better yet not doing anything about it? People like me who pretend and fool themselves into thinking that their half-lived lives are better than nothing at all, that settling for what you have, what you can have, is better than chasing after the next shiny thing in the horizon. Is it? Is this really better than the not knowing the reason for this gnawing discontent, this rumbling anger threatening to overwhelm my sanity? I don't know who said it, but I agree with whoever they are when they said that we all live lives of quiet desperation. Because god knows, I do.

on taking chances

Life is like that I suppose. You gamble, you let go of your anchor, to take risks and sometimes it pays off, but most times it blows up in your face big time. And so you go back to your corner to lick your wounds and regroup, vowing never to take chances again. But you know that one day, you're going to find yourself standing on that particular ledge again, staring ahead, and deciding to jump at whatever chances that fate throws at you. It's a cycle, funny but vicious, and you always, always get thrown.

define normal, I do not understand

Most days I feel like I have been left behind, that the whole world is moving, everyone moving in a frenzy, in a hurry to catch one more brass ring. Everyone but me. I feel like everyone around me has kept at their pace, pushing on, but somehow I'm stuck, inevitably stuck. Their worlds keep moving while mine has come to a screeching standstill.

I used to be like everyone else, eyes on the goal, never faltering and in that frenzy, I somehow stumbled without knowing it, lost focus, and I let the rings drop. Now it seems I no longer know the dance, that I have forgotten the steps somehow. And so I got left behind. Everyone is moving around me, moving on with their lives, and why shouldn't they after all? Meanwhile, in me-land, I feel stuck, frozen, like all the pieces of my dreams have gone tumbling down and I can't seem to get them back in order anymore. Neither do I feel motivated to do so. Because I have come to the realization that catching a particular brass ring will never be enough, that there will always be another one on the horizon, just beyond my reach. Yes, I so want to be like everyone else with their normal adult existence, with their lives planned and plotted out. But is that all that life is ever going to be? And the scariest part of it all is here I am, two months short of having been in existence for thirty two years now and I still don't know what I want. Why can't I be like everyone else?

we are such terrible creatures, selfish and insecure

I have no illusions about my character, I know that I can be selfish, and petty, and mean, and secretive. I have too little patience and are too prone to bursts of temper. And you know, I don't know if I can change, some days, I even don't know if I want to.

Maybe that's why I don't have too many friends or why I never try to keep in touch really, except for the perfunctory hi or hello once in a while. I'm going to tell you one more thing about me. You know why I never open up to my friends, why I manage to convince every one that everything is peachy keen in planet Me? Because I view information as ammunition. This is why I am a good listener. Because I like to feel needed, and I store up that information so I can use it later. Because what I need is to hold something against you, because then if you go away, I wouldn't be crushed. This is also why I don't open up too much to others, why I don't readily share this blog with people who know me in real life, because I am afraid that I will be judged, that as I said in an earlier post, they'll find out who I really am, and they won't like what they see because god knows some day even I don't like me.

*the title of the post comes a drawing of Kurt Halsey's

I'm going to hide under the covers now

Some days, I feel like I don't have the energy to get out of bed, because for what purpose? I feel direction-less, without purpose, listing. I hate, hate, hate days like that but more so I hate my life. I hate that this is all the life I am going to get and I feel like I've screwed it up. This is it, this is the rest of my life. I can't wish for a do over, nobody gets that, nobody gets their slate wiped clean to start anew. Too much baggage, too many things lost, too much guilt. This is it. No use thinking back and saying I wish I had done that instead, I wonder what my life could have been. There's no use thinking about that anymore. Keep moving forward, ha. I want to but I am inexplicably tethered to the past, to my mistakes. I never can decide. I can be impulsive sure, but a look back always grounds me, ties me down, cripples my movement. I just might be one of those people who need outside force to keep moving. I lost that a long time ago. In my frenzied fumble towards the prize, I dropped my brass rings and somehow never got back into the groove. Never. I don't even know if I want to. Or if I could. But that's par for the course in my universe. So I continue to bury my life in make believe, allowing real life to deaden me. I remember vowing never to be like this. Just tells me I know nothing.