This is not a diary.
This is an analysis of my life.
This is to uncovering who I am as a person.
And who I can become.
There are periods of time in which insomnia strikes. Generally they arise when things happen in life.
Am a stressed by life? I suppose so. Give me another reason why I can’t sleep.
I am thinking –
yet nothing fruitful comes from it. Just thinking. Panicking
How I do I appear to other people. What does my body language say? What do my words really mean? Am I being me? Who is me?
I feel like an illusion.
Living, not doing. Accepting, not questioning.
I used to have an identity. I was the sporty one and who got the grades. I think people were jealous. But really I was jealous of them. They could spark conversations, and know what to say and how to say it and it would be funny and life would go on with banter.
And then there is me.
The socially awkward one who just sat there listening. Occasionally speaking. The plus one.
Who accepts and doesn’t give back. What can I give back? A material object? My conversation? My physical being? What do they want? How do I know? Do I need to know? Should I even have to know? Surely giving a piece of my personality doesn’t have to please them, if that is what giving back means? I am me.
Who is me?
What do I have to give back to the world now that I have taken so many opportunities? What have I learnt?
The mystery of who I am keeps me up at night but I am yet to answer it. Maybe because I am the person I don’t want to be.
Simply living means that I can remain blissfully ignorant.
This is not a diary. This is deducing my state of mind, to understanding my identity and to claiming my identity.
I may not be Sherlock, but Mycroft seems like a pretty cool bloke. I think I relate to them both in terms of lacking emotional intelligence. #mycroftmindcroft
This is to sharing what I notice about myself and the world. And even extracting some sort of meaning from it.
To my belated new years resolution: Being me.