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I remember, when I was younger, how I used to collect quotes I thought were beautiful. My favorite ones were "Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose" and "Too young to die, too old to cry, too much in love to say goodbye". Cheesy as fuck, I know. A product of that bittersweet and oh how sad, well known teenage-angst. But I thought they were so right, back then.
I feel like this whole year, I've been running away from something. I've been working, drinking and dancing on tables so much that I've actually forgot how it feels to just breathe. Then suddenly I'm trapped here with nothing but my own silly thoughts. It can be fucking heartbreaking at times, having to face yourself all over again.
I know I should see my temporar isolation as an opportunity. A chance to catch up. To shape up. To remember how it is, just to be me. It doesn't feel good though, quite the opposite. I feel like I'm being overwhelmed by oxygen. Like reality is hitting me in the face with all it's possibilities and limitations. Asking me what the fuck I've been thinking. Making me question all the decisions I've made, and to see them for what they actually are.
Is it really so important for a person's well-being to be in perfect contact with one's emotions? I've learned the Freudian way, through my psychodynamic parents, always to analyze yourself. To be your own shrink. Now that I'm forced to listen, however, I'm not sure that I wanna hear the answers. I feel dizzy, pixelated and alone. If running in circles actually makes me happy, does that make me some kind of neurotic? And if it does, is there something wrong with that? Will it increase my risks of a mental crash later in life?
I'm not gonna fly home tomorrow, even though I guess I could. I don't expect myself to find some sort of visionary inner peace in 10 days, I'm not Buddha. I will try, of course, to read, to relax, to look in to the mirror and embrace what ever is in there. To decompose every little piece of my worldview and rebuild it, if I have to. I'm just not sure whether, or how this is gonna make me a happier person. I miss living. I miss the world.
I feel like this whole year, I've been running away from something. I've been working, drinking and dancing on tables so much that I've actually forgot how it feels to just breathe. Then suddenly I'm trapped here with nothing but my own silly thoughts. It can be fucking heartbreaking at times, having to face yourself all over again.
I know I should see my temporar isolation as an opportunity. A chance to catch up. To shape up. To remember how it is, just to be me. It doesn't feel good though, quite the opposite. I feel like I'm being overwhelmed by oxygen. Like reality is hitting me in the face with all it's possibilities and limitations. Asking me what the fuck I've been thinking. Making me question all the decisions I've made, and to see them for what they actually are.
Is it really so important for a person's well-being to be in perfect contact with one's emotions? I've learned the Freudian way, through my psychodynamic parents, always to analyze yourself. To be your own shrink. Now that I'm forced to listen, however, I'm not sure that I wanna hear the answers. I feel dizzy, pixelated and alone. If running in circles actually makes me happy, does that make me some kind of neurotic? And if it does, is there something wrong with that? Will it increase my risks of a mental crash later in life?
I'm not gonna fly home tomorrow, even though I guess I could. I don't expect myself to find some sort of visionary inner peace in 10 days, I'm not Buddha. I will try, of course, to read, to relax, to look in to the mirror and embrace what ever is in there. To decompose every little piece of my worldview and rebuild it, if I have to. I'm just not sure whether, or how this is gonna make me a happier person. I miss living. I miss the world.
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