Time and All Things are Relative

Isn't it incredible how a seemingly ordinary, single thought has the ability to redefine and change our perception radically? It may even be a common thought, a fact that's been known to us for some time and yet with every changing moment, our perspective alters and it can turn a mere fact into a profound discovery. I wonder how that happens. There was nothing extraordinary about today that turned this reality into an epiphany I just can't shake.

It's July, and that means October is three months away. Actually it's going to be August shortly, so October will be approaching us even sooner. This has always been the case, but that struck me really hard today. My lease expires in October. I feared that I wouldn't be able to survive my lease without a job and was terrified about being evicted. Now I'm nearing the end of my lease, and my apartment hasn't even come together.

Each day passes with an undefined, uncertainty for me. It goes by deceptively slow, making me feel like I have far more time than I actually do as I find myself lost in relative time. This isn't the first time I've written about epiphanies, but there's something startling and unsettling about this one. I'm terrified that I won't be able to catch up with time, that things will never change. It's no longer about discovering something new but the possibility of no new discoveries. There's this presence of anxiousness, anticipation, nervousness, and most frighteningly imperativeness like I have to get something done. I need to create, I need change, I need to define myself, invention!

I met a guy that I really like. He's the first guy I've ever met that I felt I can see myself spending my life with. Note how my intuition or subconscious used the words "spend my life with", not "spend the rest of my life with." That distinction keeps ringing in my mind, as though it matters. I really don't want to burden myself with excess worry I can't do anything about, but it's a constant echo in my voice.

I told him I'm not ready to be in a relationship because I don't even have a job. I'm 27. Eventually my body's ability to reproduce will just die. I didn't realize until last year that I wanted children, so my mind is going bonkers. I didn't feel behind because I thought my priorities were different. I hate that I haven't even focused and developed myself yet, and a guy is what's shocking my senses in check. So much for being independent! Pfft!

I have no idea what I want in life. There are a lot of things I want to do, but none really inspire me to put the energy and effort into it. At this point, I know I just need a job so I can at least decorate my place and enjoy it before I have to leave. But my actions will be to serve a purpose outside of myself. I mean yes it's for me, but they're superficial reasons. My fear is that I'll perpetuate the very thing I've successfully escaped by being unemployed, not getting trapped in existence. I'm tired of working just to wake up and do it. I want to live, I want to have experiences. I know my habits and my actions that I've carried with me my entire life isn't conducive to my self-growth. Okay then, where do I go from here then? Please universe tell me.

The Painful Difficulties of Defining Myself, Day 274

I struggle with the barriers that exist in defining myself which makes me question if I truly do have a strong sense of self. No matter how crappy life felt, no matter how helpless, no matter how painful, no matter how alone I felt in this world, no matter how much I was convinced that the world deliberately antagonized me for its own amusements, I always prided myself in my strong sense of self. I'm independent, I'm opinionated, I'm uncompromising, I didn't let things intimidate me, but lately things feel different. So many people say the same thing that this could read like a clique and maybe it is, but I'm only me and I can only feel what I go through.

For the first time I feel lost within my own identity. I may have gone through identity crises or transitions that I wasn't too proud of but through it all I was aware of the changes that were occurring as foreign as they may have seemed. When I was sitting alone in my soon to be just mine pad, the power of the blank canvas began swallowing me whole. I began realizing that this is my own space that's going to allow me an opportunity to identify myself in my own space, and I have no idea how to decorate it. I managed to turn decorating into an identity crisis nightmare.

It sounds pathetic and I can't properly defend myself and say it isn't, but it was genuinely horrifying. My place is supposed to be symbolic of who I am and display my identity. For someone who knows herself, I need others to define for me how to decorate my own space. Do I even really know myself? Maybe this inability to make this space my own without the help of others is actually an insight into who I am and why I need to be away from others. I grew up fast, too fast, that I skipped a couple steps and years later I'm realizing from a distance how much those missing pieces are affecting me. It sucks to go back and fill in those gaps after so many years as I see everyone else progressing forward, but I can't keep existing with pockets of emptiness inside of me. That's no way to live.

A Trafficked Mind, Day 262

I think this title accurately reflects my state of mind and accumulation of experiences. Life is such a paradox. Why is it that nothing happens as everything is changing? How is it that as everything changes, absolutely nothing occurs? Those things should be mutually exclusive, but it isn't and that complicates it. And I'm not even sure I understand the concept, so how am I supposed to be affected those experiences? I suppose the best thing for me to do is to not analyze them and accept them for what it is, whatever it is.

My mind is overflown with countless epiphanies and experiences. Each meaningful in its own right, and it makes me want to provide them with the attention it deserves. But I don't have that kind of energy or desire. Something that's always been difficult for me is to snip corners. I need to prioritize which experiences are worth writing about and which ones aren't. Sometimes I think, man, I wish I wrote about this before the turn of events occurred because usually the change is good, but the writer in me knows I could've utilized the standstill to further my writing.

I guess I'm torn between the writer in me and the girl who just wants to experience life. I've identified myself as a writer, always, and only lately have I felt like there are other dimensions I need to discover. I seek the introvert within. I've felt drawn to moving to a specific place and I've been following my intuition, but I'm starting to understand why I want to move there and it gives me affirmation.

I'm a powerful extrovert. I love social settings and being around the energy of others, but there's always been that gnawing emptiness inside of me. I either ignored it and replaced it with friends or couldn't quite put my finger on what it is, so I barely noticed its presence or the absence of its presence. I believe most people are either extroverts or introverts. A lucky few have mastered the ability to channel between the polar opposites, but all they've really learned to do is travel between the two worlds. You don't really co-exist within those realms.

It's like this giant bucket. You can either fill it up with juice or water. The bucket's only so huge and can contain so much. If you try to pour both the water and juice in at the same time, it overflows and leaves a confusing mess. It's unproductive and dysfunctional whereas some people have learned to transfer the liquids out and replace it between the two beverages. I have a friend who's such an extrovert like myself, but his poetry is written by an introvert. Without reading his work, I wouldn't know such a presence exists in him.

I want to achieve that sort of depth, and I can only do that by myself. I'm going to move farther away where I know less people and it's harder to connect with my friends. It's also cheaper to live there, so I can have no roommates. It'll require me to rely on myself, intuitively. I look forward to it.

I began realizing the psychological damages of self-denial and suppressing my premonitions is more dangerous than I could possibly understand. I could be afraid to open up, but the feelings will linger. It's time I explore them and see where it takes us especially since we seem to be on the same page, both filled with attraction, intrigue, depth, reservations, fear, and this unfulfilled potential of what can be. We're both drawn to each other. I also look forward to where that leads.