Being in constant transition is ultimately tiring.
Currently there are frozen vegetables in my crockpot. I’m making soup because I am cold and soup is one of those dishes that makes me feel better. I have papers on papers to do. My procrastination is still at an all time high. My self-sabotage is, as well. I do a great job of starting but never finishing. I don’t want my life to be that way, but it is one of the only things that I have been consistent at. Besides the usual self-pity party, I now realize that my life can somehow be summed up as condensation on a jar.
As of late, I have been staring at the wall and crying. I spent two hours on the phone with my mum earlier this week because my relationship with God is nonexistent and I’m scared of my life and any greatness that I might have within me. I can’t see it, feel it and I’m afraid that I was in my prime almost ten years ago, but never fully took advantage of it. If high school was my prime, well then God help us all.
I am tired. Of myself. Of putting myself out there. Of using my body as a bargaining chip. For someone who is so self-conscious, it’s interesting that I seek love in the physical form which in turn has hurt and challenged (read: changed) me internally more than anything. I want to be the Ciara before I made mistakes, but does she even exist?
I wrote in my phone the other day something to the fact that I am always good at hiding my emotions, but what if that starts to crack and the fact that I was so good at hiding them, it won’t exist anymore. I think that is the day that I’m scared of the most.