no serious turmoil going on.
sometimes i get angry at work, but that's to be expected. i have friends that i love and piss me off a lot, but that's life. i live with people that are either aloof, too busy, or overbearing but i deal with it. i am not in a major relationship of any kind, which is probably a good thing.
i think.
i could spend time contemplating how miserable i was this past year, when my financial situation was uncertain and my heart constantly ached for a love that went sour, but would it be worth it? i've started plenty of writing sessions focusing on the issues mentioned, but it always felt like i was overly whiny and that i couldn't get my head on straight and i was just another fool who lived for drama and was too weak to get out of my self-loathing. i'd usually end up feeling embarrassed or foolish with what i was willing to divulge and would end up selecting all and hitting the delete key.
is it a fear of looking bad? probably. but why should i be? i've never claimed to be perfect. i'm nothing close to that. i am living a life of consequences and mistakes, of disregard and sloth.
my parents had such high hopes for me (i think my dad still might - my mother is probably just happy that i'm not dead). doctor? lawyer? engineer? all possibilities. but i wanted to do it my own way.
don't be mistaken; i'm not in a bad place. not at all. i read up on and hear about a lot of people's lives and there's this going on and that's happened and oh my god that's a lot of shit to deal with, and i'm thankful that some of it isn't happening to me but feel guilty about not being completely content with my own life.
fuck, i don't know what i'm blabbing about. i'm just lost, cruising down an unknown street, with no idea where to turn and whenever i stop to ask for directions i never like what i hear.
can you dig it?
maybe i'll go watch spirited away again.
