i came here aching after a style that is not natural to me.
i could force it. but it doesn’t feel right.
i’m not a funny writer. i can’t turn my life into a series of giggle worthy witticisms. i come off sounding whiny and like a perpetual complainer. maybe that’s what i am – and i should really at least be honest about it, and stop dressing it up in pants made of humor.
we want to be everything, you know? everything that seems cool or right or like what we should be. i’m having this personal war with the word should. i feel like it is some cloud of doom hanging over my whole life. you should do your errands in a timely fashion, you should exercise and eat healthily, you should enjoy x, y, and z, you should want to go out and have fun, you should keep your apartment clean, you should go to work everyday, you should focus while you’re there – you should do all of these things to create a neat and orderly existence and then, then all of the puzzle pieces will come together and you will be filled with that thing you have always been missing. that inexplicable thing.
but it doesn’t work. it never, never works. i go through these cycles of rising early to exercise and chronicling my food intake and making all of these lists and lists, things to get done in a day that i know i won’t but at least i’ve set the bar high, at least i know i will try so i will get a LOT done even if it’s not everything. i’ve bought pretty, trendy things. i’ve gone out a lot, i’ve watched a lot of movies. eight hours behind a desk every day leaves you drained, it really does. even if it’s not hard, even if you do like a lot of it – often i go home with the sole intention of “insert food into face, become horizontal, rise the next morning”. i wonder, sometimes, if this makes me somehow energy deficient. but i try, and within a short period of time i feel suffocated by it. guilty when i am not active, pressured even when i am. i feel overloaded, and i wish it were 1850 and all i needed to do at night was sew by candlelight or something.
that thing is missing though. it doesn’t fill up, and it doesn’t matter what i do. i am not miserable – in most moments i am at least fairly content. i just feel this gap. i’m figuring out that i can’t fill it with “should”. and i’m figuring out that i don’t actually have to be everything. and that maybe if i focused more on figuring out what in the litany of shoulds is actually me – which of these activities come from my actual desire as opposed to my need to achieve – maybe that gap will lessen even a little. even a little, i’d be grateful for.