I'm feeling pretty overwhelmed right now, and I'm beginning to doubt myself. Its crazy how easily one small sliver can wriggle in and take root underneath your sternum. How even now, sitting here, lazily typing, I can feel it stretching its limbs and beginning to root under this vein, than another. It is taunting me every minute that I am not in front of a book, every second that I am not furiously typing at the next assignment. I've felt behind from the moment I've started and this feeling is only getting worse. I'm scared -- that I'm not as smart as I think I am. I'm scared that I have no clue what I'm doing. I'm scared about money, and jobs, and life, and even just breathing at this point.
When does the light kick on, that I'm okay. When does the fear get ripped out by the root and let me continue on in peace?
I don't want to be scared of something so controllable. It just feels like sometimes I have no outlet in which to talk. To actually talk. To sit and have someone listen to me, for once.
Moving home I've begun to lose myself in the doldrums of work, class, and working out. I'm no longer a separate entity. I have been consumed by the address; taken under the wing of safety that resides there. It's hard to ground yourself when you can't help ground others. So not only am I losing my grounding, I'm losing it fast.
I'm not really sure what this post is meant to be about. I'm not really sure if there was ever a point besides the fact that the swirling vortex of my subconscious needed to be emptied, and Chip really isn't the greatest listener.
Maybe that's it. I just wish I had someone to listen. Because it feels like I spend a helluva a lot of time listening to everyone else when all I want to do is scream. I want someone to listen, and to actually listen and to actually care and to not brush it off.
I'm just like everybody else -- I want to be heard.
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