November 15, 2008
living
I’m constantly searching for my self. Feverishly and hastily, tearing down wallpaper, repainting, replacing, cleaning, destroying. I’m constantly searching for a comfy place. I don’t stay where I’m uncomfortable. I don’t like to stay where I learn nothing. I want to try too many different things. I don’t know why I’m in such a hurry – I’m not a cancer patient. I always feel like I’m wasting time and need to revise/improve so I can find myself and be at peace with everything and start living. Every year I’m surprised at how things turn out and what decisions I’ve made. I think I’m impulsive — almost against my will, out of shear fear that I’m not living. What if I’m wasting time trying to not waste time?
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