I find that it's such a struggle to express myself now. I whine and moan and retell stories to my friends on a regular basis without any problems. But blogging, on the other hand, involves opening up to strangers AND attempting to sort through my thoughts - which thanks to recent events have become even more chaotic than usual.
I cannot even begin to describe the intense urge running through me now to just flee and close this post and let it stew as a draft (as I've done numerous times in the past few months; effectively explaining why I only have 8 posts for this entire year).
I've been told that even though I chatter about stuff a lot, I'm actually incredibly closed and reserved, particularly about stuff that bothers me. I should open myself up more, the person said, before effectively stabbing me straight through my still-wounded heart (but not consciously on purpose.)
I have sooooo many stories to tell, but I just CAN'T bring myself to actually TELL them here. Reason #1 is something I may have mentioned before; a creed that I forced upon myself when I was younger - 'leave no evidence behind!' It's something that I have tried to contradict throughout the years by starting diaries and journals... only to lose and stop writing in the end. I have quite a collection of unfinished diaries because of this. Diaries that were dutifully updated daily, before the gaps started appearing and the updates became more sparse, until the whole thing just ended abruptly. No formal goodbyes, no official 'this is the end of this diary'. Just a regular update that would turn out to be the last one, followed by blank pages.
That seems like quite a scary parallel to mortality, but I have no wish to dwell upon that train of thought.
Anyway, reason #2 would be the 'running from something'... thing. I dunno. There's *something* in my mind that scares me. Something buried that I don't want to uncover. It's like my mind is a library, and as of now the shelves are in disarray and lots of books are on the ground. Every time I try and sort them out; pick them up and put them back where they belong, I'm filled with an incredible sense of dread... like I'll discover something hiding beneath a pile of books, or something hiding behind a shelf. I'm pretty sure it's just my mind exaggerating... I'm actually willing to bet that if I do discover a monster, it'll turn out to be a fluffy little bunny rabbit. Like the one in Monty Python and The Holy Grail. Perfectly innocent.
Pain or no pain, though, I have decided that I will be blogging more on a regular basis. The main reason being that I don't want my writing skills to atrophy while I'm on my gap year. The other reason would be that I cannot let the library of my mind fall into decay. I have to start sorting shit out... can't postpone it any longer. I may feel like shards of glass are shooting through me every time I pick up a thought and try to sort it out... but one's got to do what one's got to do.
Maybe in a couple of month's time, I'll feel well enough to start telling stories again.
Before I leave for now though; here's an epiphany that came about while I was washing my face earlier (I know.. don't even start):
I'm atheist by choice. I put a great deal of thought into it a while back, and realized that it made much more sense than believing in something simply because my family said so. I've also stopped believing in a meaningful, orderly universe with a cosmic scale that dishes out good stuff for good people and bad stuff for bad people.
There is no god; we just like to think that. The universe is meaningless, as is our existence.
But I don't mind that at all.
There is no god that dictates what I should or should not do. There is no god that watches over every single thing that I do. My mistakes are my own, and I can fail as often as I need without having to fear punishment; my triumphs are my own.
There is no great plan; there is no meaning; there is just chaos. But it is up to me to create my own little bubble of order. It is up to me to create something out of this meaningless tumult.
I feel free. No, wait. I AM free. And I love that.
All human beings should try to learn before they die what they are running from, and to, and why.
- James Thurber
