If life were willing

Sometimes I feel like a failure. Usually when I think something negative or ridiculous I can reason it away with logic. Why must I be so logical? It takes away the fun of moping around and wondering what I can do to make myself feel better. It’s times when I feel like a failure that I can’t actually come up with anything to make this pain any better. Inside it’s all so empty and it frightens me sometimes that I can’t find any words to express myself or the world. It used to be different. I almost feel like I used to be a different person. They say we change every seven years. What happens when I turn 21? I think I’ve already begun changing, so perhaps the change is gradual and I’m not actually being paranoid. Nothing flows evenly anymore. I need to look away from the screen, even as I write this sentence write now, I look away from the screen and think my thoughts out. They think and process and before they can be reprocessed I type them down with swift fingers that glide across the keys clack clack clack. What am I doing with my life? I feel as if I’ve accomplished nothing. Others would disagree and I suppose I can see where they’re coming from but I want to accomplish so much more. At this point I feel like I’m still trying to satisfy my parents instead of me. It’s never been fully me. It’s always been a little of them, a little of her, a little of him, a little you. Where do I fit into this puzzle piece? So many different combinations of flavours but there’s no room for just one flavour. Am I not allowed one flavour only? This mixing and matching keeps going on and on forever and I don’t know when the ride will stop. I keep preparing to leave and just when I’m on my way out the door I get pulled back and I’m swallowed up again by the perfections, the necessities, the responsibilities. I don’t want any of that anymore. I’m tired. I want to be so much more. Is it impossible for me, will it always only be a dream?

“Should I stay or should I go?”


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