I've been afraid to write for a while. Maybe because I'm afraid of where my thoughts will lead. But if we are what we repeatedly do, I'm not a writer, because I've been avoiding it like the plague. No one wants to face their demons, but I think I'm getting close to facing mine. I'm wound just a little bit too tight these days and yet I feel more than slightly unhinged. Does that make sense?
I'm not sleeping well, I'm not eating right. I'd rather hole up in my room and shut the world out. Depressed? Most likely. Despondent? Definitely. Lost? Yeah. Uncertain? Yep. When I'm stressed, I'm like the crab that represents my astrological sign. I curl into myself and hope my shell protects me.
But if you ask me what's wrong, I couldn't tell you. Sometimes I feel like I've been singing the same song every day for the past 5 years. No one wants to hear it anymore. Even I'm sick of it. And yet, there's daily brilliance and happiness that dot my days. So much hope for the future. So much potential to embrace. Change is afoot and I usually find change exciting. I just wish more of it could break through my shell.
“Some people think it's holding on that makes one strong- sometimes it's letting go.”