Invalid Thoughts That I Myself Don't Even Care About.... Don't Feel Obligated

Rambles

I am awfully afraid day in and day out of becoming something that I loathe and hate. I am constantly running away from the clichés that I mock in my head, just to find that I am running head on to a bigger cliché. Selfish.. I am selfish; in my thoughts, in my lies, in my head, in my actions, in my intelligence, in calling myself intelligent, all of it and everything. The matter of fact is, while I am so worried becoming something I don’t want to ever be, I am missing out on so many things. I am never present in the moment. I am never in my body fully without my ego getting in the way of things. This is the most free I have been writing all of this down. Yet I hate the thought of a woman writer, let alone a young 20 year old, complaining of her middle class life. I feel as if I have no valid voice that anyone who would like to take part of, yet I think my thoughts are valid. F**k.. circles, constant f*****g circles. I say literature is my passion, yet I don’t think it is passion at all. I think it is pure envy. I read Plath and think, “My god, what a tormented yet beautiful soul.” How I wish I could express myself like that, and still have others begging for every ebb and flow. I am shallow and vapid and full of s**t. That’s the matter of the fact. I know a lot about nothing and even less about something, yet I run my mouth like I know why the Mona Lisa is smiling the way she is. I wish one day I will be able to stop giving a f**k about any of this. I beg daily for a life where I can just be fully present and vulnerable and pure in my thoughts/actions. Just to be able to do something or say something with no hidden motive or clause. Be able to offer myself completely to someone without any doubt around the corner of my mind. Just to BE, no worries or anxieties. I don’t like to think that this is the cause and effect of low self-confidence of a silly naïve girl. Yes I am young, but I know the harshness and reality of things that most don’t, or will ever. I hate how the world measures someone’s life experience with how many candles they have blown out recently. Does it matter how many rings a tree has on its trunk for it to have seen many storms? Yes age grants more opportunity, but not validity. This argument is a cliché in itself in all reality. A young 20 year old debating the worlds view on ageism, and begging for confirmation in her life experiences, because she is ashamed of her age. How stupid. This has all been said before. This is has all been thought before. This is why alcohol was created. Numb the mind and have free the idiot that everyone tries to suppress. I will have another glass of red wine and just sink into more cobwebs of the mind. If I am lucky I will start to feel sorry for myself enough to want to cry and just be held. This is the American dream. Look forward to it.