It’s the 12th day of July and…I have not written anything. This is even the first time my ink hits an empty sheet for myself.
It’s the 12th of July and… I have not finished a single book. Yikes! Mess up…that’s a first in a while.
Maybe my creative juice stayed back in June while I flew to July. Maybe that can explain why my brain acts differently from my body.
I’m burnt out. Tired. Anxious. Scared. Overthinking. Crashing out. Tired.
I could blame this feeling on July, I could tell myself a hundred billion times that I always feel this way in July because I can’t wait for the bliss that comes with August. But that’s a lie because August will come with a whole new feeling.
The feeling that asks the purpose of my life. That restless feeling in a time of rest. Overthinking again. Confusion.
See, it’s not the month. It’s my life, I guess. I don’t want that anymore. I want something else.
I want to fall in love. Not necessarily with a person. No, I want to fall in love with life.
I want my life to have meaning. I want to know what it is to live and not just to exist. I want to know the purpose of my life. I want to enjoy my day. I want to enjoy listening to music again. I want to smile with a lasting glint in my eyes. I want to scream at the dark with the wind fighting for my breath. I want to discover new books that will devour my thoughts and keep me awake all night. I want to get attached with good series and movies again spending my free time experiencing life through movie scenes and characters.
I don’t want my life to feel like an obligation. I don’t want my peace and joy to feel rehearsed. I don’t want to live without purpose. I don’t want to feel burnt out and confused. I don’t want to keep overthinking situations and crashing out.
My sister asked this question today and I shouted, “Messssss upppp!!!”
Friend, let me tell you, if I can’t blame myself for how I feel, I should probably put the blame on the plenty concepts I was taught in Literature— absurdism, existentialism. I mean, the blame should not hang around. Or maybe, I should put the blame on the consumption of sad songs.
So, this might probably be my last sad reflective post. I can’t be the reason why y’all are sad, pleaseeeeeeeee. Happy posts moving forward! And maybe, just maybe, I need to cut down on my in-take of sad songs. Just maybe🫠. I can’t not be happy when I’m alone. That needs to stop.
To be or not to be.
That's the question that lingers in my mind at times when I feel like wind blowing through life.
But, I've learnt that it's part of being human to experience the highs and lows of life else I don't know what exactly I would attribute living to be if not the change in high/low moments.
As long as we are appreciative of every moment I would say that's enough.
it's not the sad songs or the concepts (all they do is to point out and explain this phenomenon)— its life, it's you
I don't mean that in a bad way but in a way that says that: in a wave their are up and down. you can't always be miley cyrus every day, some days you are just you, an average Jane doe, stale, a vegetable that isn't for any purpose but to exist.
that's not as bad as it sounds (it always is, but not this time) because, the duller the darkness, the brighter the light is gonna be. and maybe, just maybe, august will taste that like a soup mixed with a subtle taste of expectations and excitement,
but if not,
just be, and thats enough, even if it doesn't fill like it.