Outpourings of a rambling mind

There’s so much to tell and not enough words. Maybe it’s because I write about thoughts, rather than feelings.

Big empty pieces of paper scare me, so does the possibility of not doing something great with my life.

I’m having a great time here, I’m really enjoying it, and yet there’s something missing. Why does it always have to be something missing?

I need inspiration sometimes, great stories to keep me going, a pep talk for the brain… and the soul. Real stories of bravery and success.

I notice things, too many things, way too much for my own good. But I can’t help it, I can’t disconnect, and since I’m not speaking, I listen and observe.

To some degree I’ve learn to accept, to live with myself, to push a little, but know my limits, to identify the triggers, to allow myself to use my coping mechanisms.

I still don’t sleep much, and even when I do, I often don’t rest. There’re too may thoughts coming in all the time. Maybe it’s because I don’t feel enough, or maybe I feel too much… somehow I can’t be sure.

I feel bad for winning and I can’t take compliments.

I have friends, yet I’m often alone.

I’m everyone’s confident, but I trust no-one.

I don’t want to think, but that’s all I seem able to do.

I wish I could meditate. I’m already good at shutting out the world, if I could only learn how to shut myself out…

I keep trying to find my place, wondering if I’m just denying that I might not have one.

They don’t get it, most of them I don’t care. I don’t judge them for their choices, so I don’t like them commenting on mine, even if the words are not always spoken… did I mentioned I notice things?

Sometimes people are embarrassed to “confess” some things to me, and maybe I should feel glad they care that much about losing my respect, but I just think it’s sad. I don’t mind people not telling me things, if it’s personal I’ll never ask, I figure they’ll share when they’re ready. The lying, however, I can’t say I like. But then again, how many times have I said I was fine when my inside was falling apart?

I need to be quiet, to be alone, but in the silence there’s no way to avoid my thoughts.

Sometimes I really wish I could be uncomplicated, but then I wonder if I would still have gotten here.