There comes a time when the experiences, the memories, seem inconsequential. It doesn’t matter how well you put it into writing. It’s just insignificant. This realization came as I finished watching Paper Towns (which by the way I didn’t really enjoy but I’m thankful enough for the food for thought).
I just feel like leaving, going off to somewhere, and then maybe, hopefully, find myself. Alright, perhaps “leaving” was the wrong word. At the moment, I just want to take a break from all the confusion there is in my world.
Have you ever felt like you were stuck, in limbo, and then you just honestly want to tell the world to stop or else you’ll give up but you know very well that you can’t blackmail the world, she won’t do that for you and you just have to try to piece your life together? So you end up stopping and letting the world revolve. And you’re just there. Stuck. Not moving forward.
People always say that there’s a right time for everything. They say that you can’t force something to happen now if it’s not yet meant to be. Thing is, we already assume that it’s going to happen. We believe that we’d heal, or that we’d get to move on, or we’d end up one day with a nice job, the love of our life, a pretty house, kids, family, etc. as if our life was already a written story waiting to be read or maybe to happen. But what if the plot doesn’t make sense anymore? What if as you immerse yourself in the story, you find lines that you don’t understand, paragraphs that seemingly are taken from someone else’s story? And then you try to reread but all you can do is just skim and end up with the extremely good parts because you’ve burned the other pages you didn’t want anyone to read? Am I supposed to dwell on these passages or do I just choose my own adventure and hope that it turns out fine? If I get stuck at writing the conflict, will I ever realize that I’m supposed to come up with my own resolution? That the blank pages are waiting for my own denouement and that no one’s going to be able to write another line except for me?
I’m struggling to find my own motivation. I mean, I do have my goals and everything but I can’t seem to find the will to make it happen. I try to write the most inspirational rambling in this little space I have but I never have tried to wear the shoe and walk the talk. I suck, I know.
Here’s why I’m writing this: people think I’ve got my shit together. Well, I don’t. I want to fix my life badly — try not to be such a paper girl. I want to make things happen. I want to move, to create, to really make a dent on the universe. I want to stop trying. I want to stop wanting.
I have 360 more days and yes, I will make it happen.