There’s a coldness that surrounds me constantly. I can’t quite explain it. Only that it lingers, quietly wrapping itself around my thoughts, consuming any warmth I try to hold onto. It drains me of energy, strips me of drive, and slowly pulls at the threads of my ambition. It’s like a fog, subtle, but persistent. Dimming the light inside me and shuttering the dreams I once held so vividly. Every spark of hope seems to flicker out before it can become a flame, and I'm left wondering what happened to all the things I was once so sure of.
There’s this looming sense of disappointment that trails me.
Not necessarily about where I am, but about where I think I should be. It’s
like a shadow that whispers, "You could have done more. You could have
been more." And maybe it's right. Or maybe it's just the echo of
comparison and unmet expectations. Either way, it feeds on my courage, chipping
away at the resilience I try so hard to preserve. It keeps reminding me to be
discontented as though I haven’t been blessed, as though I don’t already have
so much to be grateful for.
But I do. I know I do.
Still, that doesn't quiet the noise.
There’s also a shadow from my past that clings to me. It
shows up uninvited, replaying past accomplishments that I once brushed off, things
I didn’t celebrate, because I didn’t think they were enough. And yet, now,
those same moments seem precious. They remind me that I’ve done good things,
even if I didn’t give myself the grace to acknowledge them back then. Somehow,
I’ve tethered myself to these echoes, unable to surrender the past, yet unsure
how to carry it forward with peace.
Then comes the fear of the future. It creeps in quietly,
disguising itself as preparation or caution. I imagine the worst-case
scenarios, running through them as if I’m rehearsing for disaster. Still,
somehow, I remain hopeful, hopeful that better days are ahead. It’s a strange
kind of duality, living between anxiety and expectation. The present feels like
a blur, like I’m neither here nor there. As though my efforts today don’t quite
measure up, or aren’t even being seen. There’s a disconnection from the now,
like I’m always either looking back with regret or forward with fear.
I find myself questioning what I’m meant to celebrate. The
things I once held proudly seem to have slipped from my hands. And yet, I still
reflect, search for meaning, trying to believe that the future is not yet
written. That the choices I make now still have weight. Still have the power to
shape something good.
And yet, none of it seems to make sense. It’s a cycle, a
loop that wraps itself around my thoughts, tightening and loosening without
warning. A tug-of-war with reality, where my mind crafts scenarios both real
and imagined. They dance endlessly in my head, teasing my peace, shaking my
calm. Sometimes I wonder if I’m the one destabilizing myself, or if life just
comes with this kind of inner noise. I tell myself I have control and, in some
ways, I do. But in others, I feel like a passenger just trying to hold on.
Still, deep down, I know something important: I get to
decide. I get to decide what I focus on. What I feed. What I let grow. And
what I let go of.
Life is a wonder. Sometimes frustratingly so. I find myself
rereading the things I write, observing the patterns that consume my mind. And
I realize that, after all is said and done, I’m still me. The core of
who I am hasn't changed. Only time has passed. The visions, the worries, and the
uncertainties remain the same. Maybe they always will. Maybe that's just part
of being human.
It's just another day in the loop. Another attempt to make
sense of it all. Another journal entry, another deep breath, another quiet
reminder that I’m still here, still standing, still feeling, still hoping. And
maybe, just maybe, that’s enough for now.
Hopefully, one day, it will all make sense.
No comments:
Post a Comment