Wednesday, January 13, 2016

Hot Mess

There's a struggle inside my head, the loud thoughts and screaming voices.
Constantly under pressure, torn between choices, torn between what I want, what I desire
and what I should do. I don't know what I should worry about the most. My never ending
journey of self discovery or the people that never fail to let me down? Those people I need
to accept that they're part of my life I need to cope with? Or those I need to accept that they're
not an essential part of it on the contrary? Or maybe worry about the opportunities I keep on
missing or the bad choices I keep on making? Well, at least I know I shouldn't be worrying 
about any obstacle that aims to bring me down. I know nothing can bring me down, nothing 
could break me. I am strong. I am indeed, but don't I have the right to run out of breath, give 
up for a few minutes and simply scream at the top of my lungs expressing how exhausted I 
am? I promise I'd get back to how strong I was but I just need a break, only if I could. Only if 
my lips could utter the words unspoken. Only if I could rebel, rebel against my insecurities, 
rebel against my comfort zone. And rebel against my own self. I'm sick of how troubled my 
soul is, how messed up my mind has gotten. Sick of the stubborn perfectionist I am and the 
hot mess I became. Sick of everything I used to love about me. My quirky laugh and attitude, 
my scattered thoughts that make complete nonsense sound like the most radical ideas ever. 
My weird habits like spreading ketchup on each french fry like toothpaste or eating the 
green vegetables first from my salad. My annoying attention to details and analyzing them. 
My different perspective and how I like to see things upside down. The way I see art in almost 
everything flawed, the way I see perfection in imperfect. And the way I see good in people. 
I'm sick of it all. I'm sick of constantly not knowing the way out of this, not knowing what to 
do. I guess it's all because I don't know what I actually want. But how can I? I've given so 
much thought about it but I still have no clue. Maybe it's time to stop thinking and start acting? 
Or in other words, start trying? But I'm scared to try, I'm scared of stepping out of my comfort 
zone and I keep on waiting for you to comfort me. I'm waiting for your pat on my shoulder, 
your soothing voice that once kept on telling me how beautiful my messed up mind was. 
Waiting for you to tell me that everything's going to be just fine and that I can definitely 
overcome it, because you know how strong I am and that you have faith in me. And as this 
gets more and and more cliché; although I hate clichés, nothing would ever sound as a better 
idea.

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