this week was weird, right?
filled with heavy energy. i slept in weird cycles, experienced insomnia for the better part of the week, woke up foggy every day. an underlying sadness tinted the week.
i spent hours unloading into my journal. honest thoughts. confused thoughts. too many thoughts.
and saw my truth:
i am only honest in words, in writing.
i have so much to say to so many people. so many thoughts and feelings and conversations i want to vocalize. not necessarily pleasant ones, either. but each time i gather the strength and steadiness to open my mouth, it stays closed. those inflated words deflate, fall back to their homes in my chest, and i implode silently.
i am as emotionally developed as my seventeen-year-old self.
i’m too busy being nice, good, easy, to speak my truth, to find my voice and use it. as i explained to a friend the other day: “i am going through the teenage rebellion i never had.“
(although, ironically, i was very quick to share my opinion when i was a teenager)
or, maybe, more accurately, i am going through the quarter life crisis no one talks about. either way, i am a big ball of feelings with no outlet other than my pen and paper. everything inside me is screaming for release. i can’t be afraid of how other people react anymore. it’s not a burden i need to carry. it’s not one i want to carry. this lack of sense of self has me floating int a weird, uncomfortable, shaky place. i’m running around trying to find my self in other people.
i gotta get over this. i’m not as fragile as i keep telling myself.
this week, i’m shooting for honesty.
off the page.
(p.s: remember when i mentioned phantogram the other music monday? well, give the phantogram pandora station a listen. hot damn.)
(p.p.s: i haven’t felt like blogging at all this week.)