I'm extremely menstral right now, or the fact that someone I love has hurt me like never before this past week, but it's been a tough day. (Also, not "hurt me" as in black and blue, but emotionally- just to clarify).
I keep wondering about what I'm doing here- not in an existential way, in a more practical, geographical way. Why am I at college studying English? Why am I on the newspaper staff? Why am I so lacking in organizational skills? Why do I let myself take on positions where I really need organization? And why is it so hard for me to find somewhere to live that will make me happy? I feel like a refugee, nothing is mine, I'm just camping out. It was my own choice and I definitely feel I made the right one, but I'm still waiting for everything to work out and be livable in my life.
Obviously it would be easier to give some of these things that are bothering me up, but I've always felt that the turmoil was outweighed by the rewards. Sometimes though, I have days where it's really hard to feel a sense of accomplishment or fulfillment.
Lately I've been too busy to do laundry or eat a decent meal let alone do any pleasure reading or creative writing and that is a major part of how I keep mentally balanced- journaling especially has helped me rationalize some of the darkest moments of my young life.
I hope to be back in line in a week or so, but I just feel like pulling a Thoreau and building myself a hut in the woods. Just to get away from the buzz of everyone on their cell phones and spend my days writing and working in my herb garden- that would be bliss. Perhaps I'd feel lonely, but it's always easier to feel lonely when alone than to feel lonely when surrounded by people and noise.
Sorry to be a Debbie Downer, I'll be back when I'm feeling more cheerful.