There is the me sitting in my bed worrying about every-little-thing in a future that may or may not happen the way i try to map it in my head. There is the me that is a Columbia grad student with a giant skeleton key for all the doors I think I want to open. There is the me that ran away to live on mountain in Peru a few years ago without any notice. There is the me that stayed in San Antonio and waited impatiently for everything to happen the way I may or may not have wanted. There is the me that never was because my parents never met. And then there is a me that will never be.
What is important is ‘what is’ and not ‘what should be’.
I am restless to no end, skilled in the ancient art of self inflicted anxiety and boredom. Holding standards for myself that are simultaneously too high and too low, I get caught in some proverbial mental purgatory where everything that exists in reality is skewed into this massive blur of time and what ifs and how’s and when’s that I fail to enjoy what ever the hell may be. But at the tender age of 24, I’m realizing that it’s all entirely too big to try and control it. Perspective is a powerful tool.
Posted on 11/01/2012
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