I’d be lying if I said I didn’t carve out at least an hour out of my day to draft some sort of essay, poem , story -HELL- even journal entry. It appears as though some unequivocal need to express myself has taken predominance within all aspects of my life lately. At times I feel a bit mad, like a loose cannon. I have this over abundance of energy seemingly bleeding through my veins and I don’t know what to do with it.
Exercise, sex, drinking, literally NOTHING seems to maim this ever present cry, “to create,” from deep within me. All these pursuits are far too shallow and merely drain my energy. I have many friends and plans for nearly each day/night, but they’re just exhausting me.
Truthfully, an internal, perennial discomfort between “normalcy”, “conformity” and “authenticity” is what’s driving me mad. I’m at a place, personally, where I want to challenge myself and hone the type of skills I once scoffed at. There’s nothing wrong with business savvy, I suppose, yet it’s a real struggle for me.
Each time I take 2 steps forward, it feels like I can’t help but take 5 backwards. It’s just so unnatural and stifling at times that I feel compelled to, “fuck up” as a way of rebelling against the system. Ultimately, i’m really just defying myself, but I can’t stop myself once the wheels start turning.
I find myself doing the same thing with all my relationships at the moment as well.
Maybe, instead of self-sabotage i’m really just scared and protecting myself from external critique and failure. Hell, if I’m going to fail I want to be the one to kick my own ass down the flight of stairs. I’ve always been the type to internalize my pain, but I feel as thought I’m just disappointing and annoying people around me. If I hear another person tell me, “you’re too hard on yourself!” I may lose it. They simply can not comprehend the motivation behind my “unrealistic” ideals, because they are not me. Only I know what I am capable of and know I am far removed from it at the moment. Perhaps, I’m where I am right now in order to adopt more humility... to build a sturdier foundation... to become more open and adaptable, I don’t know.
This leads me to wonder whether thinking so fucking much and expressing myself are merely forms of escapism? Are these maladaptive, escapist tendencies so embedded in me that i’m sabotaging my own relationships and career out of ...mental laziness? I knew I was disconnected from myself, but I didn’t believe how much so... hm. Maybe I’ll just stop now before I fall down the rabbit hole once again. I’ll end this with a short work I wrote a while back that seems suiting:
i’m content in the cocoon i’ve built
to be tortured by my own mind
because i refuse to believe
love is a burnt out city,
abandoned and dilapidated,
so desperate and alone
solitude does not suffocate,
abandoned and dilapidated,
so desperate and alone
solitude does not suffocate,
but protects, the romantic imagination
