You know those days where your mind is running a million miles an hour straight towards nowhere? Well, that was today. Don't get me wrong, I got a lot accomplished, I just feel like in the long run it may not matter. Which leads me to feel that I have accomplished nothing at all. I'm noticing that this is an increasingly common problem for me. I feel I have so much to offer, but I don't know what to offer it to. What paths will make me feel the happiest and most fulfilled? Can any of them even do that? What do I want out of life? Why do I want it? Does it even really matter? How is what I'm doing relevant to time and humanity at all? It's all a bit overwhelming, but I have to find the answers because otherwise I am inclined to feel a bit....well, pointless. Truly.
I have the most insanely difficult time waking up in the mornings. My bed is warm, I'm still worn out, I haven't gotten enough sleep, and I am not sure wether or not whatever good comes from my day will be worth exposing myself to the frigid below zero temperatures of my car. My hands usually go completely numb on my way in to school because I have to stop periodically to scrape the outside of my windows all over again, and then the inside because the fog from my breath instantly freezes to the inside of my windshield.
Once I'm at school, I face an onslaught of mundane tasks, from which the only escape is theatre, dance, music, or ignoring whatever is being shoved at me and drawing pictures. But why am I seriously bothering with any of these? They aren't likely to be a stable field to go into [[says everyone]] but they're what I love. I've been told that sometimes a love for something isn't enough though. So, I continue plodding along in my bleaker divisions of education as well. I consider these to be, "The Grey Areas." Once I've managed to survive another day of it all, I go sit in an office and listen to some of the people I care about discuss matters of interest. I love this. It's probably my favorite part of the day, but then, at the same time, it makes me so sad. I feel I have so little to contribute to the conversation. I want to talk, but what if I say something completely stupid? I'm also particularly excellent at tripping over my own words, which always negates whatever point I was making anyways. So I close off, listen, and pull unceasingly at my trains of thought, trying to sort through them and find some worthwhile opinion to voice.
It's not that I can't talk in front of people. I can. I'm pretty good at it too. I just can't talk in front of the people I love and respect the most. I worry that they might find some unforgivable flaw in me and their opinion of my person will lessen. Or they'll realize that I wasn't truly worth their time in the first place. Which isn't an appealing prospect. I aspire to be different though. One day I will be able to say exactly what I mean in a confident and audible tone. Perhaps by then I will also have found a purpose. Until that happens though, I will fall into a restless sleep every single night, dreading what my mind will dream up, and recoiling at the thought of the cold I will face the following day. A following day that is both too near and too far away. I know I can hang on to myself through it all though, and before too long the frost and ice will melt away, and it will be spring time again.
I can almost smell it.