The past year flew by, and so many vivid memories bring a choking feeling into my throat. What have I done? Is there any way I can tell if my life has meant anything to anyone? I’ve loved more fiercly than ever before, and given more of myself away than I am brave enough to confess. More people walk around carrying different pieces of me. If they all met together and put the pieces together, would they fit?
Why do I always make it about me?
I want to know people. I want to know what makes them tick. I want to know what’s in your head.
I don’t want to live the rest of my life cramped in this tiny room. I want to get out and run through a field. I want to climb a mountain. I want to bleed and feel the pain. I want to weep for those I love. I want to scream at the top of my lungs and not be inhibited by the culture I’ve grown to accept.
Wherever my life leads me, I want to live as if I’m all there. Never wishing I was somewhere else, like I am now.
Oh, the irony of this silly little note. Its taking me back into my own circles of thought that trap me with their ingriguing and pointless wanderings.
Someday I will have the courage share the things no one has ever heard, and maybe that will be the day I don’t feel the need to repeat myself. Maybe then someone will hear me and really get it.