Feeling outside myself. A sort of withoutness- if that were a word- but I welcome and look forward to being alone.

I’ve been paralyzed by fear for so long, fighting now to move in a direction that doesn’t waste anymore time, so naturally I’m petrified of making the wrong decision.

Camping in the middle of nowhere, looking up to the sky, swatting away tons of mosquitoes sounds like scary and challenging fun… but with people I don’t know so well, social suicide. At least for me, a graceful walk into a pack of wolves… minus the grace.

Am I judging them by thinking this way? These familiar strangers–no more, no less.

I’ve believed that things, or at least people that are meant to be would be by now. Six years of existing on the same island, I thought I’d know who was for me and who wasn’t.

And know with certainty. But even when I think I know, nearly sure I know, a part of me still whispers, what if?

And my mind goes running again. Always split in threes, never standing for any one thing beyond the few minutes that one emotion freezes me in. Until, I feel differently, until a thought pops in and waves its hands bringing notice to an entirely new perspective, person.

Self-love, Day 2, feels like the most pathetic battle I’ve ever been on… No, no, just another in the line of steady misery.

I’ve thought it was me, always, the one who was awkward, weird and didn’t fit in and despite my endless efforts I never did.. So I stopped trying, found peace at home, cooking and talking to my dog-kids. This is enough, but does enough bring about change, happiness, progression?

Or maybe I’m distracted, looking in the wrong direction? Sigh, too many maybe’s.

A mental vomit with love,