I was sitting downstairs, watching a movie, when it hit me. It. I don't know what 'it' is. But it hit me, and hard. I became absorbed in the moment, emotional and upset. I felt like everything in the world stopped while I sat there. I don't really know what it is. Maybe it's the looming return to the daily grind, or maybe it's my misconstrued conceptions of workload. Maybe it's fear. Maybe it's not wanting it to end. I guess the most believable response, however, is that I'm reinventing myself in a way I don't want to. I'm taking myself away from the niches and labels that I could apply to myself and all of a sudden feel insecure. Every time I've reinvented myself, it's been because I've started something new, and now, for the first time, it's because I've ended something old. I'm destroying my own misconceptions, and I'm desperate to destroy the misconceptions of others. I'm trying to escape shallowness, which I can't get away from. But I suppose my big problem is my skippiness. I don't have any goals. I don't buy into it. But sometimes, you just can't play life as it is, meandering on through. Sometimes you need a goal. But when you're afraid of failing, stumbling on your journey, and your attention gets diverted easily, well, it's pretty damn hard to make a goal.
I'm stronger now, I've taken myself apart, gotten rid of the crap and put myself back together.
And in the end, without the crap, I don't know where to go.