Questioning my updated definition of home makes me feel guilty for the people i have and had in my life. like i take them for granted like I’ve been so selfish and so unreliable. I was there for them for a time and then i am not. When the load is too much or inconvenient, i run away.
I totally feel like i have lost myself these days. Like i have lived a life of somebody they wanted me to be. I’m exhausted and burned out. I’m expected to be this and the opposite way at the same time.
From work, relationships, and social life. I’m just not who i want to be. Is this really a life i want to live. Is this really someone i want to be. Feel like i haven’t really explored the world and all of my options. But i’m too scared to leave my dark, comfortable and safe nest, abandoning these familiar places for uncertainty and for something i’m not even sure that’s what i want.
Feel trapped and anxious and numb, but too tired to even move. Not sure that’s even worth it. To risk a 90% to find the lost 10% which i’m not even sure. Looking back i think that’s just who i’m destined to be. who i’m cursed to be. Never find comfort all my life. Always a misfit.
And i just know, no matter how much i hate this place i called home, in the end, i’m just too scared to sleep on the street alone.
But happiness these days is so rare. I rarely laughed purely, i rarely have a meaningful conversation i crave so much. The deep talk orgasm i frustratingly crave. I feel trapped and isolated within a cage i created myself. I pretend to be happy just to feel secure, holding this thin frail thread i call love. is this really love? No one to be blamed but me. The blood is in my hand. And i have to take full responsibility.
Splitting between missing the old me and hating her. Wondering what will she did if she was in this position.
Jea.nn.e 