fusion of feelings
Warning: this post is of a slightly irrational, girl-like nature and if you are looking for some-light hearted, Friday entertainment, come back next week.
It’s a miserable day here in London and today it doesn’t help when I feel such a mixture of things.
There is this constant battle that goes on inside of me, whereby the person that I am and the person that I want to be are constantly at war. I know it’s idealistic and quite humanly impossible but, sometimes, I just wish that I could be the perfect person; that I could be everything to everyone and still true to myself, never tiring of doing good and still achieving everything that I have planned.
But the truth is much simpler than that: I’m not. I’m not perfect and I never get there no matter how hard I try because my human nature gets in the way at the most inopportune times. There are times when I feel to shout out loud about how hard-done-by I feel and then a louder voice tells me to put my selfish pride aside and accept that no one can make me feel that way but myself.
And this is why I write. Writing has this comforting way of putting my life into perspective like nothing else can. What goes on in my head is largely chaotic but when I see those same thoughts in some semblance of order, I feel, to some extent, more balanced. Even okay. But today it just doesn’t feel like enough. Today, I’m just not sure at all.
It’s a miserable day here in London and today it doesn’t help when I feel such a mixture of things.
There is this constant battle that goes on inside of me, whereby the person that I am and the person that I want to be are constantly at war. I know it’s idealistic and quite humanly impossible but, sometimes, I just wish that I could be the perfect person; that I could be everything to everyone and still true to myself, never tiring of doing good and still achieving everything that I have planned.
But the truth is much simpler than that: I’m not. I’m not perfect and I never get there no matter how hard I try because my human nature gets in the way at the most inopportune times. There are times when I feel to shout out loud about how hard-done-by I feel and then a louder voice tells me to put my selfish pride aside and accept that no one can make me feel that way but myself.
And this is why I write. Writing has this comforting way of putting my life into perspective like nothing else can. What goes on in my head is largely chaotic but when I see those same thoughts in some semblance of order, I feel, to some extent, more balanced. Even okay. But today it just doesn’t feel like enough. Today, I’m just not sure at all.
posted by foxy_roxtar at 10:35 AM
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