Overstimulated. Restless. Exhausted. Finding solace in a few quiet moments here and there where I manage to collect my thoughts.
It's all in there somewhere... all the highs and lows. The bittersweet frustrations of life. But spilling it out onto the page has been such a struggle lately. It's taken me days just to get this far.
I wish you could just see inside my head... Then you would see that I only mean to do good. You'd see that my actions do have a logical progression and that the desired outcome is built from a foundation of love. I guess that's why I write. Most people love to talk about themselves. I am no different. Perhaps it is some sort of ideological vanity... I don't know.
I know I have thoughts in my head that would likely change your life, although I would not be presumptuous enough to share them with you unasked for. I'm perpetually curious about whether I am the only person I know who thinks about these things. I've had the pleasure of connecting to one or two other minds in my life that seem to travel on similar wavelengths. But as of late my attempts at good conversation have dwindled. I find it exhausting to reach out now. After being met so many times with these self-imposed mental boundaries which people seem to find necessary. Why, I wonder, does it have to be that way? We can learn so much from each other if we just accept that we don't know everything about everything. (there is a quote from a song that I'm sure belongs here, but i can't think of what it is!)
I continue to write. Not because I really have anything to say at this point; it's more just because I want to talk to you.
