Coming, going. Here, there. Moment one, moment two. All disconnected and all executed on whim and sheer circumstance. That’s not me. Where am I? What am I?
I often feel confused as to where I should be at in life right now, mentally and physically. Physically I realize I may have not found my home. I’ve found comfort, I’ve found safety. But I haven’t found mystery, haven’t found awe. I haven’t found what it is I’m looking for. Speaking of, in my head I wonder if I’m in the right place. You know, comfortable in my own skin. I’d say I’m close to 80%, fully realizing 100 is impossible, but 87 sounds really good, doesn’t it? The magic number. But is it just that, magical? An illusion? Am I foolish for feeling at an 80? Is a 50 more appropriate, more realistic? I’m unsure. I was talking to my bff about this yesterday. I reflected that I’m in a place different from him. I’m in a place that says do your research; think about things just a tad bit more than what you’re accustomed to. Living in the moment has it perks, agreed, but is that the world we live in? I feel like it’s not. Personally, my world takes planning and an ounce of initiative. No bulletproof vest can be found. A safety net, maybe. But that’s always Plan Z.
We then talked about bars. They've been under my skin lately. I go, but I don't often enjoy my time. It's not about the company--I enjoy my company. I also like to have fun, and sometimes I have plenty of it. But there's more to it than just a dog and pony show. There's a principle, somewhere, that's become void. I ask myself, what's the point? You don't find respect in a bar. Most times I don't respect the people in them. I don’t respect the process, I don’t respect the results. Nothing good comes out of a dark bar, a dark perception of interest. Not to mention a clouded perception of reality. In a bar, reality doesn’t exist nor does consequence. For some it’s an escape. I get that. But at the same time, is a bar where I should escape to? Some times yes. Most times no.
But I can look back and realize that fun was had. Although it’s still a slightly empty feeling. Nothing really came out of those experiences, except a time or two where bonds were strengthened out of sheer randomness. Heart-to-hearts, unforgettable stories…I do cherish a few. Still I feel sold-short. Maybe it’s because I’m turning 27, maybe it’s because I’m over dramatizing aging, maybe it’s because I over dramatize all aspects of my life. Anyone that reads this blog can easily realize that.
But with time only getting shorter, I think there’s more out there for me. Things undiscovered, feelings unfelt, too many experiences of inexperience. Simply put, I think there’s more to do. Exactly what, I don’t know yet. But it will come to me. Or I will go to it.
Eventually.
By golly I’m going to do something about it. Mark my words, ye of little faith.
I’m talking to you ryansumner.
