I haven’t put my thoughts to pen in quite some time. I’ve come to realize that, while I enjoy writing in my free time, it becomes a genuine need in crucial periods of uncertainty and discontent. I won’t go into the nitty gritty details, but this is regarding my ‘work’ and my naivete concerning others.
Paraphrasing Einstein, it’s insane to continue doing the same thing repeatedly expecting different results, something that I struggle with often. I don’t like quoting perceived geniuses, especially when they aren’t experts on our individual lives. However, I felt this was quite apt to the sort of person I am.
I am easily deceived by others. It has shown in my relationship with my family and in the remote jobs I’ve done thus far. I should have learned already. “Stranger danger!” “Don’t be fooled so easily!” and so on and so forth. Yet, I’ve difficulty in doing so. Even more perplexing, my actions directly contradict my own ideologies regarding human nature and skepticism. And, in continuing this trend, I may have failed myself once more.
I don’t understand why I believe in people who I’ve never met before. I don’t know why I place heavy emphasis on human relationships that obviously aren’t mutual. Perhaps it is because I’m overly complacent and would rather not search for something more so substantive. Or maybe, I just want a little bit of security in my life. I’m well-aware this may be confusing to any person who may be reading this, but please do understand that I’ve never been a static nor firm person, even if it may seem like I’m unmoving to those who know me personally.
I fear that voicing my current desires may land me in a hot seat. I know that I’m not in the most stable mind set, so this is likely subject to change, which really means I should just keep it to myself. Still, I need to verbalize it in this space where I feel comfortable.
I want to be alone. I want to be left alone with my thoughts somewhere. With books to read all day. Without having to worry about my next meal or when rent is due. I want to spend my days quietly learning, fantasizing, yearning, and writing. I know. This is the mentality of a selfish, petulant child who doesn’t desire to contribute to society. It’s stupid. It’s unrealistic.
But this is what I want. I’m so tired of it all. People hurt me, and I am at fault for allowing them to do so. The world grows more and more egregious in my eyes, albeit it’s probable that I’m seeing with more clarity. Now, all I desire is a bed with a myriad of literature nearby. Maybe even some grub in the corner of my eye.
That quiet, that stillness. It’s peaceful.
Merpdo Stories 