It's been awhile since I've been alone with my thoughts. I must say, everything's moving so...quickly. Sometimes I feel like I can't breathe, but then I wonder if I just want an excuse to be lazy. Somehow, even if I'm not doing anything at all, I still feel that dreaded hurry sickness, that rushing that never ceases, even now as I type, like I just need to get this over with.
Who knows?
On the plus side, I keep marvelling at how each time I return here, I become more...myself. Some days, though, I still can't speak my thoughts, and that bothers me. My body shakes, my voice wavers, and I...stay silent. I force my thoughts back down my throat. Another day, I tell myself, despite knowing that I'm only lying.
I've been thinking more about myself as myself lately. Usually I'm thinking of my stories, the ones that I can't quite write because I'm so worried about if they're actually meant to be written. If I ever think of myself, I'm thinking of the future me, the one in the classroom or the one who knows all of the right things to say, to wear, to do. Recently I've caught glimpses of myself so clearly that I falter.
I'm worried about my practicum this summer. I'm worried that my contacts will fall through, that I won't be able to get around, that I won't be doing all of the things my teachers require of me. I simply can't comprehend how I'm supposed to teach English to a room of students who don't even speak it. How do I communicate? Pictures can only do so much, I fear. I know, I know--You have it taken of, but I...I fear my own inadequacies.
I fear for my brother, my other me, my alter ego. I love him very dearly, but I think I rely too much on him. I placed too much stock in his opinions. I should have realized that I would not see him nearly as often as I'd imagined. Then I fear for his addictions, his hang-ups. I can only skim the surface, but surely the depths of his sins are only stirred up by my responses. Oh, Lord...what can I do?
I haven't written anything decent, or anything at all really, for such a long time. I know only that which I observe, which I experience. What, then, to say?
I feel like I keep striving for something, but I don't know what. I keep counting down the seconds, the events, waiting for...something. What? As soon as this month is over, as soon as my summer practicum is over, as soon as work is over...but then what? What am I striving for?
Sigh. Maybe I just want time to create. To watch my favorite shows. To listen to my favorite music. To play video games. Maybe I just want to be free, for a couple of days, of all obligations. Is this an option? Is it ever? I suppose I can only wait before I find out.
