My notebooks, just like my head, are full of nonsense scribbling. They're full of feelings or thoughts that I had for a moment, but by the time I go to write them down, they've mostly dissipated. Just like when I try to turn my thoughts into actions.
I spent about four hours gardening today, which clears my head, and I'm now just sitting outside - in the sun! - trying to decide how I feel about the word "alone". "Alone" is different than "lonely", but sometimes I can't tell the difference. I think loneliness stems from wanting to share you life with someone who knows, understands, and appreciates me, but not having that person.
I could outsource that need by having friends, but the sharing isn't the same.
The worst thing is thinking you've found someone, but that person doesn't feel the same way, or is wildly insufficient in satisfying either one of us.
I get that "trying too hard" is often the path to failure, and I guess I haven't figured out what it means to "try", versus what it means to "try too hard", until it's too late.
As Noah Marley says, "I'm trying to save me from myself, and I'm flying with no control straight towards hell". ("Somebody save me. Am I worth saving?")
He's a wordsmith, that one.
I used to think I could be a writer, and I haven't given up on that dream yet, but I can't write with direction or purpose when I'm constantly assaulted by teaching, parenting, and trying to pretend like I'm like everyone else. I need a hot minute to look inside, without anyone else's input, and find myself.
I'll keep looking, because I'm pretty sure this person inside of the trappings of society has many stories to tell.
In the meantime, I'm going to get back into the soil in my backyard and dig.
No comments:
Post a Comment