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I am weary. And I have nothing better to say other than that.
My mom placed an old box on my bed, filled with various possessions of mine that I had forgotten about. She told me to go through it and whatever was left was to be thrown away.
To my surprise I found quite a collection of old journals I had kept through middle school up until the first two years of high school. I read through them and have come to a general conclusion.
While my perception of the world and self-awareness has changed (grown, hopefully), at my core, I remain the same. I am miserable, and often so, and I mostly seek a light to the darkness. Coping mechanisms, masking techniques have developed. While my outlook on life does not remain as innocently optimistic and hopeful, I do maintain a resolute faith in myself and my abilities. Where once I would dismiss my sharp intellect with a naivety in a struggle to be accepted, I now embrace it with fierceness. My passions have not much changed. They still bring me joy. I take comfort to know I am not fickle in such areas. But I still harbor a pit, a black hole inside of me. And as I grow in life, it grows in me. There is no sating it. There is temporarily ignoring it.
But I'm steering my personal goals toward a path that emphasizes what makes me happy, as opposed what can I do in this world. There is only so much to do this world. Be kind. Be happy.
My mom placed an old box on my bed, filled with various possessions of mine that I had forgotten about. She told me to go through it and whatever was left was to be thrown away.
To my surprise I found quite a collection of old journals I had kept through middle school up until the first two years of high school. I read through them and have come to a general conclusion.
While my perception of the world and self-awareness has changed (grown, hopefully), at my core, I remain the same. I am miserable, and often so, and I mostly seek a light to the darkness. Coping mechanisms, masking techniques have developed. While my outlook on life does not remain as innocently optimistic and hopeful, I do maintain a resolute faith in myself and my abilities. Where once I would dismiss my sharp intellect with a naivety in a struggle to be accepted, I now embrace it with fierceness. My passions have not much changed. They still bring me joy. I take comfort to know I am not fickle in such areas. But I still harbor a pit, a black hole inside of me. And as I grow in life, it grows in me. There is no sating it. There is temporarily ignoring it.
But I'm steering my personal goals toward a path that emphasizes what makes me happy, as opposed what can I do in this world. There is only so much to do this world. Be kind. Be happy.
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