Usually the path I am to follow as to what I am working on in my life - personally, philosophically, emotionally - is clear, or at least feels right in some way. I will feel a strange energy to continue pressing forward if it is the way I am supposed to be going. Hard to describe really. I open one door, which leads to another room. I learn what I need to learn in that room and then move on to the next. Not necessarily linear, but at least there is some degree of clarity. However, recently I have been feeling like every door I try is locked or a dead end, as though, no matter what I do, I am trapped in this dimly lit room with walls and floors that are sticky with other people's dried beer, alternately pacing the linoleum tiles and sitting restlessly on the stained avocado green sofa.
For some reason I was reading through all of these old posts of mine and it struck me how silly and naive I sound.
I just want to yell GAHHHHHHHHH and swing the door wide open into the chilly November night, clamber down the fire escape like a wild little monkey, and run through the streets of Brighton naked down to my feet.
I have been working so damn hard at loving it but truly, truly, I am just sick. and. tired of being me.