I have
this picture as my desktop background at work. I guess this is what it feels
like to be a proud parent. Most of my time at work is stuck between trying to
figure out the point of what I am doing [and finding a reason to validate myself
because of it. Spoiler Alert: Still
looking for it] and staring at the promotional picture of Count Spatula. I
just want more of improv. More of what makes me feel like I am doing something
purposeful with my life. More of moving and living and not being confined to a
chair all day. A chair that essentially is a torture device; allowing me the
beautiful opportunity to sit and, you guessed it, think.
And
thinking leads back to waiting. Waiting for the future. I’m going to be super
pumped come next year, but right now, not so much. I just feel like I have no
sense of identity. Any identity and self-image I do possess seems fleeting. I’m having that sinking feeling I’m falling behind again.
Or missing something. And when I feel like that, I pull away and try to figure out how to be more
like everyone else.
Granted I have
the horrible tendency to pull away from social activities when I feel lost and
invisible. Which just makes the situation worse. I’m working on it. Kind of. It’s
just draining to be so peppy about things that just don’t seem to matter. And it’s
just hard to be in the moment when your mind is miles away. I’m just irritated
by the mundaneness of the daily grind. I’m annoyed because I feel like everyone
around me is too predictable, that includes myself. I’m looking for a breath of
fresh air. Every day feels more suffocating than the last as I continually walk
into a day that is indistinguishable from the rest.
I guess I just
feel like there should be more. And I
know where I can get more. I’m seriously running out of reasons why I’m not
there.
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