It’s 12.05 am I’m sitting on the edge of my bed writing this, I don’t really know why but I find putting down my thoughts before sleep somehow helps to sort out my problems. I hear myself ask the questions, I’m just waiting for the answers, although I know most of them already.
I wonder if the rest of my days will be repeats of today. I think it’s called existence because it certainly isn’t living, at least not as you might know it…
ergo…to live…to have life, to be alive. I don’t need to plan my days they’re already mapped out. If it’s a Monday it must be……or a Tuesday…., each week the same, just the odd difference, an appointment or visit, but normally each week alike. No spontaneity, no excitement. “Too old”, some would say, my answer would be “bollocks, you’re as old as you feel”, but some days that can be pretty ancient.
I know I suffer from an inferiority complex, I never feel ‘good enough’, not bright, afraid to speak up for myself. It’s too late to change, I know that if you’re told enough times you’re not good enough, you will start to believe it, I did. I feel intimidated and shy, unable to converse or compete on an equal footing, sometimes unable to stand my own ground.
My one desire is freedom…freedom from what? Pain, boredom, being totally unfulfilled. There are times I would love to just leave my body behind, it’s just a useless and painful shell, just leave it and drift, call it my consciousness, I don’t know, but I do know it’s not my time, I wonder when that will be, this year, next, thirty years into the future, do I really want another thirty years of a life like this? I know if I could have my one desire everything would fall into place.
Honorable mention
Adding your comment:
So sad.. to feel we are just existing and not living is such a burdensome thing...
