Sometimes I think that I’ll just always feel like this. That no matter how much personal growth I go through, no matter how much I deal with my trauma, no matter how much I talk to people I love, no matter how many times I integrate lessons learned, that I’ll just always feel like I am searching for something else. That nothing is quite right. Cue the Bad Person spiral. Because I know deep down this feeling doesn’t mean I don’t love or appreciate what I have, who I love, or that I’m not thankful for where I am. But/and I feel like a horrible friend, sister, partner, daughter, person when I admit that I am afraid that I will never find what I’m searching for.
Thinking about the last time I was in Sweetwater for my aunt’s funeral. And how me, my dad, and my papa all woke up at the same time and we drank our coffee together in silence, reading the news on our phones/tablets. And then drank more coffee. I’m both laughing and crying as I type this because I identify so much with being like them/being an old man. And obviously I had to text both my dad and my papa to tell them I love them and miss them.
Listening to my “saltwater era” playlist, which might be why I’m crying so much this morning.
The urge to just delete all socials, start over, reinvent, and try again is strong. But also, I have done this too many times and it doesn’t actually work for me. It works for a while, having a fresh page, endless possibilities, but it doesn’t actually make me feel better in the long run because then I can’t find my old self1 . I can’t see how much I’ve grown, or where I am still the same, what is Me, etc. — so I just keep trying to show up. In this very inconsistent way. And hope that it’s still worth something.
The imposter syndrome of being a writer is so real right now.
That is to say that social media can be an archive, for those of us who have shit memories, not that I don’t exist off screen. You know what I mean, right?
this is HORRIBLY relatable 😭😭😭🖤