I feel like I'm missing from my own life. A voided space that I use to fill is becoming an epidemic throughout my universe. My absence is spreading like a disease. I'm a ghost among the living, a shadow among the solid figures. For once, I'm not struggling with my identity, but with my existence. My goals have swallowed me whole.
Simultaneously, my personality feels comfortable with a certain amount of anonymity. It welcomes the absence, most of the time I'm totally fine with it, scary. I've never understood this about myself...how content I can be in my loneliness, how it suits me. I wallow in this, I indulge, its my creative fuel, I draw, I write, I play my guitar and I'm extremely empathetic. I love these things about myself, I just wish happiness could trigger these things instead of despair.
I'm 20 years old and I haven't figured out how to make myself happy...but I look at my little sister and I am happy for her, I see a flower bloom and I am happy for nature, I see a puppy born and I am happy for life, I look at myself and I see nothing...How do you make something out of nothing? I just wish I could plant myself somewhere and watch myself grow. Instead, I always find myself in a house of mirrors, not being able to recognize any of the 50 different reflections that gaze so quizzically back at me. I can see myself through other peoples eyes and I am proud of the person I am to them, I just wish I could remove that factor and be happy with myself.
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1 comment:
you should be very happy with yourself sweetheart
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