Work has turned me into a zombie. While I do call upon my work personality, I don't hide my identity in it. However, I work so much that it has consumed me. I haven't dealt or processed with emotions as much as I'd like or is considered healthy. But I have helped my friends out. In a twisted way, their pain keeps me human. Without it, I'd just be an empty shell at this point.
My friends are suffering, and it saddens me. But I have this silent intrigue and excitement stirring inside of me, and hopefully something will come of it. Only time will tell, but all that's been on my side is time. I want something new, change, progress, development.
Lately I've noticed that things I can't do I can do. This is one thing I'd love to be proven wrong. The insecurity and doubts surface, but I look forward to quieting them. I didn't realize until I began typing, but I sort of miss my premonitions. I had one this weekend, and some things changed or slightly altered today, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. My friend says that sometimes when things don't happen, you get a second chance. That's what I want, a second hope, another hope.
Sometimes during the briefest of moments when I'm alone, free of obligations, responsibilities, distractions, considerations of others, compulsions that consume me, I'm moved to tears when I think that I won't get what I want. I'm terrified to express that. I'm tempted to delete this paragraph because even though they're just obscure words to readers, they're associated and come from some of my deepest fears. Once I allow a tear to trickle down my face and slightly burn my skin with the saltiness it leaves behind, I'm able to resume my social nature. Does that mean I am broken or I'm not? I have this fear that expressions like these will be interpreted and perceived in a negative way that'll make people in my life hesitant to get close with me. I hope not.
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