Silly

When I look into my past I wonder if I am where I'm suppose to be. If the purpose of my life has been fulfilled or if I have yet to accomplish it. It's hard sometimes to guess or suppose that thought. I sporadically be awaken from sleep with this gnawing feeling of immortality and that my days are numbered, which is the only thing certain about my, our future. Intertwined with that nauseating feeling is that dread that one day, when my time has come to an end, that the deeds I have left behind will be inadequate. That my life has been for naught because I've been afraid to do something about it.

I know my life is not carved in stone. That I have the power to shape it and wield the future to my liking. Though actions' results perhaps may not turn out the way I have imagined it to be, the important thing should be is that I tried. I am afraid. I've written about it many times. I am afraid of the very thing I want.

In my family, everyone has found that perfect someone and their niche in life. My sister finding her husband on the very first try and a career in being a healer. My two brothers, after several tries found both love and their own path. Me, I'm too afraid to try. I talk a good game, yes, but to put that game into action I have not. I am afraid to fall short of expectations, to be the first in a long lineage to have an unsuccessful pairing or career, to produce nothing worth the next generation. I put all these expectations on myself, I know but I have to be able to break free from it. No one else can be able to do so. Only me.

Sometimes I envy my cousin whose thrown his life into the winds and found his way in the streets of foreign countries and learning foreign cultures. What am I doing? I wanna do that. See the world. Learn about the world. But I seem to have found my feet cemented in place as the world passes me by. That what is expected of me is what is driving where I am going. What do I want? I'm turning 29 in 20 days. In my 29 years of life, what have I done? Nothing that I would write stories about. Others may not think so, but to me, it's not it seems.

I hate myself for seeing greener pastures elsewhere when others may see mine as greener than theirs. I should be grateful. I should feel blessed. I should ... many things. Yet I feel unsatisfied. I freakout to think that this is it. That my life would be a bore to me for the rest of my life. At one time, I found myself wondering when the last time I cried. When the last time I was truly happy and joyous. When the last time I felt pain and sadness. I welcome it all. Yet I have not experienced it all.

I feel so ungrateful and selfish to feel this way. I should be ashamed of myself and yet look at me. I'm writing. I'm admitting. Does this mean I'm embracing? Why can't I just act on what I want and not fear that it has somehow violated what is proper. Why am I keeping hold societal expectations so close to heart when it is the cause of my quarter life crisis that I once thought have gone away. I'm still here. The crisis not over. Does it really need to be resolved? Maybe we are meant to have, and will continue to have inner crisis to make better decisions. I don't know.

I wanna feel alive. I wanna feel emotions, raw unadulterated emotions. I wanna love that someone so much it hurts to breathe when they're not beside me or when they ARE with me. I wanna risk the pain the inevitably comes with such passion because the only person who could possibly hurt you the most is the one you have given your heart to. I wanna know it. I wanna know it so badly that I'd throw away logic and reason just to feel it. I don't wanna think about it anymore or dream about it.

But I know that not because I want it so badly that it will come. The wait is unbearable. The longing is unhealthy. I know I'm just setting myself up for more pain when what I am seeking would not meet years of fantasy. I want it nonetheless. The perfect life --with all the good and bad intertwined.

I feel silly admitting this, yet here it is.

This could be the very minute
I'm aware I'm alive
All these places feel like home

With a name I'd never chosen
I can make my first steps
As a child of 25

This is the straw, final straw in the
Roof of my mouth as I lie to you
Just because I'm sorry doesn't mean
I didn't enjoy it at the time

You're the only thing that I love
It scares me more every day
On my knees I think clearer

Goodness I saw it coming
Or at least I'll claim I did
But in truth I'm lost for words

What have I done it's too late for that
What have I become truth is nothing yet
A simple mistake starts the hardest time
I promise I'll do anything you ask...this time

--Chocolate by Snow Patrol