Pen Portraits

Thursday, October 03, 2013

It makes me sad to realize that the only time I feel the need to write, is when I don't feel anything but emptiness. And I'm trying to create something in me, anything, to put into words, to have something concrete and real to define my life, so that I can be sure that I'm living it.

But I'm not quite sure what I'm living for. "Right" answers immediately fill my head, but I'm not sure if that's what I truly want. And it confuses me because I don't even know what I want. I just know it's not this. It's not this.

It also makes me sad to realize that often, the biggest hurts in our lives are the ones that define us. The ones that have molded us into who we are. And very often, it is our biggest hurts that help us give the greatest gift of ourselves to others, the ability to help someone else who is going through what we did, to help them heal, even if we feel it is at our expense.

Recently I've been getting a lot of comments from friends, people who say I'm too serious, that I intimidate. I don't do it on purpose. I didn't use to be like this, I don't think. I was the idiot in the class that talked too much, and laughed too loud, and who everyone could say anything to because "she wouldn't mind." But I did, deep down. I just laughed it off because I didn't want to seem hurt, vulnerable. I didn't realize how counterproductive that was until people went too far. And I snapped. And I've stayed angry for far too long and now I'm saturated with bitterness. Now people are afraid to approach me. And I'm still miserable. It's so hard to find that fine line. You're always falling off one edge or the other. One day, maybe, I'll find that perfectly intricate balance where my gravity's centered but for now, I'm grabbing on to that tightrope looped around my neck with dear life.

I don't really know where I want to go with any of this, this is probably why I don't usually write such random meanderings of my thoughts.