I have been keeping a kind of journal/sketchbook in recent months, where I write my candid feelings in a sort of stream-of-consciousness way. Then I am supposed to draw what I wrote. I didn’t draw anything for today yet, but I wrote the 300+ words it usually takes to fill up the page. Why I share these things, I have no idea.
13 November, 20012. 11:AM
I think I am depressed. Not so depressed I can’t move. Just beneath the surface. I feel like I am about to drown. The water is rising, but I am not moving. Decision making freezes me in place. I feel indifferent in rooms filled with laughter, like I am in my own secret bubble. I am not special in this way. It just feels like I am because I am wide-eyed aware of my place amongst others. I do a lot of things that make others happy, but I can never please them. I don’t do what I want because I’m unaware of what that is. Sometimes I know, but usually I don’t. I don’t listen to myself as I should. The glow of the sun is in my eyes and I don’t care about the rules of not staring into it. I allow it because I am disregarding myself. How ridiculous. It is ridiculous because I do what I want every day of my life. I make my own rules. I create my own realities, yet I feel this way. Why? Just seems ridiculous, like I need permission or something. Permission to do what? I guess to do what I want. I need to find out what it is I want. Why is that so difficult. I am making it hard for I don’t know what reason. Perhaps it is just a familiar place where I am most comfortable – insecurity. I’d like to be done with it. Life is too short and I am too old to keep going along like this. Any decision is better than no decision. I need to let the chips fall where they may. Make mistakes. Take a risk. THAT is the risk. THAT is the challenge. It is no bigger than that. Make any decision and allow it to fall into whatever depths or heights it will. So be it. I’m strong enough for anything.