What's in it for Me?

Is it selfish to want more for myself? To not feel like I'm being given enough. By friends, by work, by life. Is it because me as a person just isn't all that spectacular? 

I feel as though I've lost who I am somewhere in the years of placating who I should be to everyone else. I'm not happy with anything. I'm looking, craving a new experience to breathe life into me again. Being trapped in this ruthless cycle of money, work, school is sucking the last bit out of me. 

But isn't that selfish? To complain about wanting me when I have so much already. There's real problems out there and I'm chasing a feeling of betterment. A feeling that is very much so just a personal choice to be excited and elated. It's as simple as deciding that I am. Why continue on this cycle of regret when I can reopen that part of me I love so much. Why is it so hard to not be weird and angsty. 

Is it consumeris, Wanting those big beautiful houses with pristine furnishings and a fancy car parked out front? Is it society's pressure to be this tiny, thin, smaller nosed version of myself because that's what's pleasing to the eye and the only way I can be worth anyone's time? Or is it the cultural war I rage within myself everyday between this east and west standpoint that I've struggled growing up with.

I keep trying external factors to fix everything. I bargain, if I make the person next to me happy then their joy will eventually rub off. I root for others to succeed and achieve because once they've reached their goals, I'll finally have a shot at mine. I need to repair the damage to my psychology first though. I've always, always made decisions with my heart, but now it doesn't care for anything and my mind haven been left to fester all those years is to weak to be rational and strong now. 

Am I just being selfish or does life greatly dislike me? 

Today is but a memory

Sometimes you go through life carefree and joyous, believing that the future will always be as it isn't now. Other times you have one of those days of inexplicable sadness that even breathing becomes too laborious to handle. Today was one of the latter. 

I've struggled with demons before, but demons you can fight. Vanquish. Overcome. Failure you can not. The saying "try, try again" is one of the cruelest things I've ever heard. To tell someone no you're not enough now but give me more of yourself and MAYBE you will be is just wrong. Sometimes to be strong you need to realize that not every path you choose in life is the one for you and that strength comes from acknowledging and accepting that new territory awaits you instead. 

I can't try again any longer, I've got to be strong now and reach my newest goal. To graduate is a big step, to live is an awfully great one. 

But I will do it. I will do both actually. Because I want so much to be strong. 

You See The Thing Is...

Writing for an audience is so much different than writing for yourself. I don't feel safe expressing ME if I know others will be reading it. I suppose that's the difference between someone like me and a brilliant author. They not only manage to portray all of their deepest,darkest secrets easily, they do it with such charm and endearment that others not until want to read their work, but they can also relate to it on such an intimate level. The reader unbeknownst to them is hurting, laughing, depressed, in love because the author manipulated them so cunningly into feeling that way. 

Someone teach me how to do this. 

When Sleep Fails, The Pen Prevails

There are certain inexplicable truths about me you must know. I'm a child, not in the sense of age, but rather in the sense of self. I prefer the whimsical curtailings of a Peter Pan or Popeye the Sailor to the savage ideologies of what being an adult entails. I don't enjoy spending my time reading tabloid trash, partaking in nonsensical drinking or other similarly disabling activities, or even wasting my breath attempting to charm those of the opposite sex because I've got a longing to. I'd rather not spend a decade chasing after the American dream of wealth, lust, and power when I can spend a decade chasing (as childhood heroes did before me) the adventures that the world has to offer. In short, I want my relationships on Earth to evolve from just a stranger's hello handshake to that of dearly beloved kindred spirits exploding with unimaginable joy from discovering all they have to learn about the other simply because they cared enough to try. 

What are some of my dreams? 

I want to travel to Belize. ASAP. No idea why. I've never been there nor could I tell you where it is on a map, what language they speak, or if whether it's a tropical or artic place, but it just seems so eccentric and mischievous. Listen to the sound of it, Belize. 

I want to experience zorbing. I want to trap myself inside the plastic sphere and run across the ocean with a borderline shameful, not-a-care-in-the-world attitude. 

I want to spend an entire summer just hiking the Appalachian trail. Real hiking, none of that oh but I have to stop and take a shower and charge my phone nonsense. I want to be so in tune with nature that I just spontaneously grow whiskers and a tail. I want to have ears which will be able to distinguish the canaries' calls as well as human speech. I want to become as still as the trees so that the wildlife embrace me as their sister. 

I want to find that whimsical blonde girl whose photograph mysteriously found its way in a photo album of pictures I'd taken at the age of 8. The girl who has that Mona Lisa smile and corn colored hair,, who sits all alone surrounded by a void so intense she forces you to focus on just her needy little face.

I want to sail my way around the oceans, spending such a significant amount of time with nothing but myself and aqua that I burn from the sun's reflection off the sea. I'll become a mermaid and swim with the critters darting about or maybe I'll be Captain Hook forever terrified that there is a creature searching to capture and destroy me so I daren't venture into the ocean's playground. I'll become so accustomed to the rolling tides that even though I'm homesick for rubble, heading back would certainly mean a roller coaster kiss from the first embrace. 

I want to shave my head bald, partly to see what the shape of my skull is and partly to protest the idea that female beauty lies in key perceptions which society has dictated. As if dead skin cells growing out of skulls define us, our lives, and how we should therefore be treated. 

I want to remember the past and revere it as a vital part of who I am which is as evident as the present is vivid. I shall continue to photograph moments whether I value them as special or not, simply because I've got a camera in my hands. The ordinary moments matter most. 

I want to learn to convey honestly and openly through speech as well as written word the inner on goings of my heart's emotional battle with my rational mind. After all, comprehension is all about expression. 

I want to learn to copy the actions and mammerisms of a person so well, I seem more like an extension of theirselves than an individual with a separate identity. To be able to understand the who, the why, the what, the when of their each and every thought seems to me the deepest compliment to the testament that they're important  

I want to pursue a lifelong lust for learning. To educate myself on anything/everything I can find from the meaningful to the trivial, the difficult to the simple. 

I want to create a work of art that is timeless. Not by the dishonest opinion of others, but rather by the raw emotion the sheer naked glimpse into my soul would induce. I want to be discussed, shared, exploitated as so controversial it is remembered. I want to experience so much that I become important enough to solicit that sort of response. 

I have a craving for adventure so strong not even fear could quell its hunger. 

I will be Courageous.

Witty. 

Risky. 

Thrilling. 

Carefree. 

Remarkable. 

Ventruesome. 

Curious. 

Daring. 

I will be Ready.