Curse of the Loner

I am feeling too restless to sleep right now. Too restless to study or to read. 
My thoughts are senseless. Worries circling worries and frustrations revolving around pointless ponderings all in one whirlwind inside my head.

Let's outline them on paper. Maybe here I'll find some sense in my thoughts and hopefully a little solitude.

Well, to begin, I should like to mention that I'm turning 19 tomorrow. 
I don't know how I feel about that. Mostly because I don't feel anything...

I'm never going to post this. I know that because as I sit here my hands hover over the keys and I begin sentences only to delete them. 

Some things are better left private. Some thoughts better kept to myself. I really don't know how much I should share here. And even if there are only a handful of people who will ever take the time to actually read this, that doesn't change the fact that this is still public. 
Besides, there are some things that I cannot put even just on paper because writing it down makes it real and, somehow I've convinced myself that maybe if I lock these things up tight enough inside myself and try not to feel them, eventually they won't exist anymore. If I write about it that means I have to confront them, and I really don't want to. 

If you've made it this far you're most likely very confused by my excesive rambling or you're just waiting for me to get to the point. 
But... I don't think I can this time. (Make my point I mean.) Because, if I'm writing this with the purpose of posting it then I hesitate with every sentence I write. But, if I'm writing this only to add it to my collection of unpublished posts, well then, whats the point?

Let me tell you something about myself that, if you've ever read any of my other posts, you've probably already figured out for yourself. 
I am a bit of a loner.

I like being alone. I'm good at being alone. I don't like depending on other people and I don't tend to make friends easily. 
I don't know why but, most of the time being around other people just makes me feel lonesome. And yes, part of that has to do with me being an introvert, but I think it also has to do with the fact that, among other things, I have trouble finding people who understand me. I don't mean to sound immature when I say this. I just mean that it's just so frustrating to be misunderstood.  Even if I were to try to explain myself, people will only ever understand you from their own perspective. It takes a special kind of person, the companionship of a kindred spirit, to really make you feel like you're understood.
I also don't like the way being around other people influences me. Being alone is safe and familiar. I know who I am when I'm alone. Sometimes, when I'm around other people, I forget.

I really do love my friends and my family. They are my safe place. I couldn't be who I am without them.
But, sometimes, in the still of night, when I'm sleepless and restless and my thoughts are wandering where I would rather not follow them; When my family and my friends are so far away... I feel lonely. 
And that's what I've been trying to say. 

I feel lonely sometimes. Even as I tell myself I like to be alone.

I don't think I've ever told anyone that...


 
 

 

My Confession

I have a lot to say right now. But, before I say anything, I need to say one important thing first. The reason I write on this blog is not because I want to entertain, impress or in any way appeal to anyone. As I have mentioned many times before, it actually makes me quite uncomfortable when people read my blog because, me being an introvert, I don't like talking about these kinds of things with people. 
No, the reason I write on this blog is for myself...mostly. I have so much of my writing locked up inside my head and inside my notebooks, and though sometimes some of it does make it out somehow, this blog is primarily here because sometimes it's nice to be heard. It's just easier to talk to my screen than to most people... 

Anyway, having said that, I am writing here today because I have a decision to make. I'm pretty sure I already know what conclusion I will come to, cause hey, I've known myself all my life, I know there's only one option for me. But I'm still a little scared. I still have second thoughts. I still have a little doubt. I need to talk myself into this for a little while first.

Now that I've danced around the issue for long enough, I will finally get to my point.

I like to tell stories. 
In fact, all I've ever wanted is to tell stories. 
And, believe me, I cannot stress enough how ridiculous confessing that makes me feel! What kind of eighteen year old is stuck in such a childish dream! I laugh at myself sometimes!

But then there are those moments when I give in to the doubt. There are those moments when I start to think "realistically," and honestly, I hate those moments. In those moments I don't feel like myself. In those moments, I feel lost. I feel purposeless. I really really hate those moments. 
But, as much as those moments scare me, there's one thing that scares me more, and that's living in that reality. 
I'm a dreamer. I admit it. I have my head in the clouds. Who cares!

I confess that this idea is insane! I know I'm out of my mind! Who can make a living off of telling stories, right?! 
But I don't care! I don't care if I struggle all my life to no avail! At least I'll have my purpose. Cause the world can take my money and my confidence. It can take my health, my home and all I care for. But the world can never take away my purpose.

I confess that when I went off to University, I hesitated. I remember for weeks in advance there was this little nagging worry in my head that wondered if the reality of University would beat this dream out of me. Sure, it's easier to dream when I'm sitting in my bedroom in the house I've lived in for most of my life. I'm comfortable there! It's easy to dream from the sidelines! But to act, now that's another thing entirely. To act takes courage, and dedication and a whole lot of faith. Oh, so much faith.

Now I'm here, miles away from my comfort zone, and you know what, I'm not scared anymore. Not of this. This doesn't scare me anymore. What scares me is not even trying. What scares me is not fighting hard enough.
When I think about quitting, when I consider even for a moment turning to a more particle lifestyle, I feel dead inside. I feel my heart sink and, honestly, I feel like it robs me of my soul. 

I have to do this. There is no other way. I don't want to waste my life. I don't want to die in regret. Not doing this is the only thing that could ever scare me. 

And now here I am once again. Making the same decision I've made time and time again. 

I want to tell stories. 

I will tell stories.

How crazy does that make me? 

 Photo Credit goes to Heinrich Nikel Photography.