Random thoughts at work

I keep reading these books about other peoples lives and I desperately want to tell my story someday.  But, who am I that I’d have an interesting story to tell?  A story worth reading.  Do people read anymore?  I could tell you that I’m wise beyond my years, but really everything I could tell you about life, is from mistakes I’ve made living.  Wisdom comes from experience.  Have I had experience?  I am one of those few people that have manners still.  I hold doors for people, do the whole yes mamn no sir stuff, give my seat up to elders, all that jazz, its just how I was raised.  I still make mistakes, i still feel like I’m being judged by others, yet I still judge others.  I still make promises that I know I can’t keep, put others feelings before my own…it’s just something that I do.  I still think my Mom and Dad hung the moon, they hung my moon.  They provided for me before I even knew that I needed to be provided for.  I still don’t know what love is, and at this stage in my life, I don’t think I ever will.  Let me rephrase that, I know God’s love, and how remarkable that is, but as far as mortal love, I’m not sure its meant for me.  I still haven’t found what I’m looking for, I’m not sure what it is that I’m looking for.  I missed two days of my writing challenge, I’m forever breaking goals, not keeping them.  I still don’t know how to apologize, or how to explain the war going on in my head and how it consumes my body, my actions.  Grief, cuts me like a knife, and I’m not sure how to fight back.  I don’t have the answers to why I can’t cry, why I can’t do housework, why I can’t go places by myself, but I’m trying.  I see people for who they are, yet I refuse to participate in their label if it doesn’t suit me.  I miss my friends, yet I ignore them completely.  I hate being alone yet I live for the solitude of my room.  I keep waiting for you to walk through that door, but I have no idea who you are , and what door you’ll walk through, or if my life is even at a place for anyone to even attempt walking into.  No I don’t feel sorry for myself.  Yes I do.  No I don’t think that my life was ruined by one person in particular.  Yes I do.  No I don’t resent them but yes I do.  I’m comfortable in life, but I want to be scared.  I’m too scared to be anything but comfortable at this particular moment of my life.  If I write about my life, will anyone care?  Have I ever lived life?  Am I just wasting it?  My dad went blind when he was 30, will I go blind in my thirties?  How would I live without my eyes?  How does my dad live without his eyes?  Do my parents know I love them?  Do I take them for granted?  Do I ever let them know that despite me taking them for granted, I love them so very much?  How will I ever come to terms with what little time I have on Earth with my loved ones?  I know I have eternity with them in Heaven, but how will I be able to wait without hurting?  Is it possible to die of a broken heart?  Will my Mamaw be okay?  What is this pain that I feel I’ve felt when I haven’t even begun to feel the pain that comes from losing someone so dear.  What does that feel like?  Will I ever love someone like that?  I’ve been through a breakup, but never having that person that I loved with all my heart, there to grow old with when we promised forever?  Why is forever not long enough?  How does it feel to lose something like that?  Is Mamaw okay?  Will she ever be okay?  Can I take some of her pain away somehow?  I’d gladly take all that pain away if I knew the right things to say or do.  What if I never met you?  What if you never cared?  Did you ever care?  Have you ever been so selfish that nothing mattered but you?  Am I selfish?  Will I ever grow up?  What does growing up consist of?  What if you never left?  Have I ever left?  Will I ever leave?  What constitutes as leaving?  Do you know I changed my number?  Did you ever try to call?  Do you ever think of me?  Do you ever miss me?  Even a little bit?  Even at all?  Do you ever think about how one little thing could have changed the whole outcome of your life?  What if I moved to Austin?  Would that have been right for me?  Does anybody know what they really want?  Will they find it?  What do I really want?  Will I find it?  I’ve been better, but what’s better?  Will I ever be Okay?  Is anyone Okay?  If love is all you need, why are most people so miserable?  Does real love even exist anymore?  Does every one cheat on everyone now?  Is that what love on Earth has come down to?  If you were stranded on the side of the freeway at 1 am, who would you call?  Would they come?  Or would you have to call a tow truck because they couldn’t be bothered?  I wonder if Granny W and Granny Z are okay.  What’s heaven like?  Is it really all its cracked up to be?  I hope so.  Is Papal okay?  Was he sad leaving Mamaw?  Does love like that exist anymore?  What if it doesn’t?  Does anyone read this?  Is anyone there?  Does anyone care?  If I quit my job tomorrow, what would I do?  Would I be okay?  Should I quit my job?  Why am I not doing my job?  Does it even matter?  What actually matters?  Does any of this?  Will I actually type all of this?  Why do I keep comparing my life to others?  My life is my own, the things that I do are of my own will.  If I have a problem, I should change it and not look at what others have accomplished as some sort of threat.  Everything will work out at some point.  Is it not working out right now?  No really is it?  Or is it not?  Sometimes I really feel the need to desperately reach out to old friends.  Sometimes I see that we probably can’t be friends anymore.  People change, and as much as that sucks, sometimes you lose people from your past.  You can try and fight it and just feel really shitty when you reach out to people who don’t care.  Realize that they don’t care anymore, and that that isn’t a bad thing necessarily, and it isn’t your fault or their fault, it’s just that life goes on and people change.  While you’re out there living life, so are they.  It’s not necessarily the same anymore, your interests can change as well as theirs.  Just because you aren’t into the same things that they are, that doesn’t make you any less, or your time or companionship any less, it’s just different.  You might soon cross paths with someone else who has the same interests and if not, okay, that’s fine too.  Everything will work out in the end, or will it?  What if it doesn’t?  What if I feel like this forever?  How do I feel?  What causes it?  What am I supposed to feel like?  How do you know?  A sea of words, a sea of thoughts that come to fast to capture, to write down before they exit.  They become forgotten thoughts, forgotten words.  Were they important?  Will I ever think those same thoughts again?  Will I have new thoughts that are better, or just easier to remember?  What if my last adventure, was my last adventure?  What was my last adventure?

These are the words and thoughts I captured on a piece of paper at work yesterday.  I feel asleep typing them last night, no really.  I fell asleep at the keyboard with my light on and woke up at 6 am this morning.  I’ll upload a photo of how I wrote this, it was on a piece of paper diagonally written and it was just a free flow of the thoughts in my head.  I really like what came out of this.

  

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