Journal Time!

But first, would you like a taste? | March 30, 2023

Here's what I'll do. I'll write my thoughts, my stream of conscience, and you don't have to say anything, okay? Don't feel pressed to feel sorry, or sad, or happy, or worried, or anything real. I want to matter, but not like that.

I don't think I'm ready for what the world has my way. I feel like I'm wasting my time sitting here, not doing much of anything. I can't really say I'm living my best life. I can't even really say I'm trying. Am I trying? Is this good enough?

And I know I'm in no position to say any of this. I'm smart, decently attractive, decently charming, and come from wealth. I mean, what's my problem? I don't get to feel sad. I haven't hurt like other people. I don't know real pain, real want. My problems are barely real. It's just me fighting myself.

And I know you judge me. Yeah, you. I can feel every one of your looks, your chides, your silence. I can feel how little you care. I can't blame you, either. There's not much I got going for me. Sure I'm smart, and decently attractive, and whatever, but I'm still completely unremarkable. No one wants to be there for me.

Ugh. I say that, but I know it isn't true. My parents, some of my close friends, they do love me. Why don't I feel that? Why am I still sad? I don't want to say their love doesn't matter but... why am I still sad? Is it me?

All of this self-effacement doesn't really do much. Asking questions and running laps around my head only serves to confuse me. I just wish I could hurry up and figure it out. I wish I was trying, or at least trying harder.

I'm sick and tired of never understanding

Where is the truth you promised?

- Rings, Aesop Rock