Reading through today's daylogs I hardly feel worthy. So many people finding
or losing love
or creating or setting course on their lives. It doesn't matter, I'm writing for myself
. The critical, impatient eye of Everything
serves only to remind me to cut the crap
My girlfriend has continued to propose to me, proclaiming an inconceivable love, and I.. I can't imagine it. As if she's suggesting setting up in llama farming. It's not that I don't love her. The connection she has in my heart is deep and tender. Yet, I have doubts about how she fits into my life at the moment -- and I fit into hers. Circumstances are hard. She is being pressured into working long hours for qualification she craves. I am sitting idly by, thinking too much, before I start work in a week's time, working for the money.
I sometimes feel the urge to just do something; to take my life in my own hands and shape it into something worthwhile. I fear falling into a groove and forgetting myself. I'm too young to be bitter and twisted yet I think that is how I'm going to turn out unless I check out of the no surprises motel soon.
Taking a few weeks out between jobs has been a shock to the system. The removal of structure has, at times, left me feeling confused and directionless. Like a caged animal with it's door left open. It requires an increase in confidence that comes from taking risks and surviving. I need to take considered risks to remind me what it feels to be alive. The easy road leads to hell.
So this is the purpose of this write-up, to remind myself to avoid the slow death.
I didn't mean to write this much.