Rants and Realizations

The realization that you know who you want to be, and know that who you are is so far away. You try to become the person you want to be, but the harder you try, the farther you fall. They say everything is possible, so maybe you aren't trying hard enough. Or maybe you don't really know who you want to be after all.

I am in a place of numbness. Wanting what I can't have, not wanting what I desire, having what I don't want. Doing what I don't want to do, being who I don't want to be, being indecisive, and confused. And I try to keep it inside, because nothing ever changes, and I just pull everyone else down and confuse them, too.

And I wonder if I'm normal. If people are honest about how they are, then no. I am different.

I always say that I don't want to be normal, but it would be nice if my brain was normal. If the way I felt about life was normal. Just because I choose to live a different lifestyle that goes beyond normal, doesn't mean that I want to feel like a freak. 

I want to feel like people look up to me. I want to be different in a good way. A way that makes people want to be like me, and want to be my friend. But now, I'm just a negativist that always has some problem or drama or rant on my mind.

I change my mind way too much. I reason, and change my mind, then I reason some more and change my mind back. I make a decision, and say I will stick to it, and I do...but that doesn't mean my mind is really made up, it just appears that way, because it makes me feel like I have some stability in my head, even though I'm not sure I do.

Nothing makes sense. Nothing. Existence, God, people, work, desires, flesh, sin, war, love...nothing. Nothing makes sense in my mind. Maybe it isn't supposed to, but I am being driven to insanity because my mind desires to know. It desires to understand.

So I figure I can throw everything away. I can run away,  figure things out, find out where the best place to be is. So I travel. Travel points me home, but yet, I haven't traveled the whole world yet, and surely there is somewhere, something, that will give me meaning.

But my heart is tied to here. To a boy. To a horse. To a farm and a family. So I come back to the same confusion. The same frustration. The same panic attacks. Then I leave again.

But my decisions affect others. I am not living alone, nor can I. Because everything I do affects someone in some way, and I have much too big a heart to just say screw everything, though I often think it. People love me. People want me here. 

And I just want to die. Every thought, every failure, every frustration, every moment of confusion just brings me back to the desire to end my life. But not even death makes sense.

And I have a purpose. That's what they all say.

Funny how I thought my life would turn out. Who I would turn out to be. Funny how far my life is from ideal. And yet, if we compare, I live in a blanket of perfection.

I realized that I dwell on the negative. But how do you change that?

I always wanted to be the positive person in the room. The strong one. The one who could help you and give you good advice. The one that always had faith in God, through the good and bad. But I am the complete opposite. And I hate it. I hate who I am. I hate who I've become. Yet, I always have.

I can't help thinking that I will never be happy. When I was 15, I had hope that it would get better. When I was 16, 17, 18, 19...I believed God could fill me, and give me peace and joy that he promises; that all the Christians rave about. But 6 years later, I'm still empty. I'm still fucking empty. I still want to stop existing.

*end of rant.