This is me stuck…again. Giving up on a thing because it isn’t at all how I wish to be perceived. I crave skill, experience and insight that I don’t allow myself to prosper in. My anxiety holds me back, I’m embarrassed to ask for opportunities and ashamed of what little I have to offer anyways. I’m not enough, I’ve tried to force myself into things but I fall every time. I want to be raw, organic, completely at one with me and how I connect with you. People read my blog and it thrills me, honestly it does, especially on the posts were I know I’ve laid myself bare. I don’t yearn for success or notoriety but for connection and acceptance. That’s what my journey has always been. Online, creatively and here, in my reality. It’s why I runaway, why I try to escape myself by escaping a place because I feel deep in my gut this empty space that persists I’m chasing something despite the constant wall that stunts me with every turn.
And the thing I amp up in my head and put my all into achieving is never quite what I’ve built it up to be once I actually get it. It’s always a dream for a day before becoming an exhausted routine all too quick. Like when I’m in a beach town I’ve idealised living in for months, a couple weeks in and I miss the pace of the city. Then when I’m in the city I crave the alienation and mellow timing of beachside living. But moving all of the time doesn’t give me the chance to establish the roots I think I probably need. Because as much as I yearn for a constant group of friends I just can’t accept one place as my permanent home. Imagining being anywhere for longer than a few months pushes me into this awful pit of despair and it sucks. As much as I’ve embraced my free spirit and my ‘grab life by the tits’ attitude, I want to want the settled life. I want to want a companion and a home and a career that gives me purpose. Because the thought of it all is so warmly imagined in my head but the practice of it makes me feel trapped. It just seems so easy to want what society pushes you to want, maybe there is some sense to it after all.
I’m actually sort of sorry if you read this to be honest, it probably doesn’t make much sense which is frustrating because I’ve been working on honestly displaying this anxiety for years. I’m over it, I’m over myself and it’s a rut I can’t keep motivating myself to get out of. I’m so hopelessly tired of being me and trying to fix it by meddling with my external circumstances. I’m almost twenty four and no matter how much I know I’ve progressed I just want to be at peace, to find my footing and stop worrying over all of these things I quite obviously can’t help.
Light and love (oh the hypocrisy of that), N x