Where to begin, again.

Life is a series of starts.  Do we ever actually finish anything?

So many things I thought were going better that apparently just aren’t.  Am I this blind to my life, this blind to my actions, this blind to the person I am?  Maybe I didn’t stay alone long enough, it’s so difficult for me to be (alone), maybe I didn’t take advantage of that as much as I should have.

How do I know when I’m right? I thought I had a good grasp on that.  But everything that I feel like I had a good grasp on just falls down around my ears eventually.  Life is a series of trying.

Starts.  I want to have a kid, for lots of reasons, probably some selfish reasons but I know (do I know?) that they’re not all selfish.  So maybe I should just do it, instead of trying to bring someone else into that circle.  Maybe all those years of only relying on myself and cutting everyone else off was the gateway I needed to go through.

I wanted to post on Facebook the other day, and ask everyone who would answer what things they did, actions they took, motions and rituals they went through, that made them feel like they were living their best life.  I felt I was very much in a place where I could start focusing on ideas like that.  Refocusing on spirituality.  Refocusing on my home.  Refocusing on my career.  But apparently I’m not done focusing on myself.  Or maybe that’s something that’s never done?  Maybe I got away from it too much.

Life has no manual.  How, when we feel on every level that we are doing right, that we are doing well, do we know and learn that we are not, in fact, and instead are doing something terribly wrong, and being the worst human ever?


I have been tired, just tired, of living.  For probably twenty years now.  It goes away for awhile, it always comes back.  Does that, like most other things in life, never end?


~ by ags713 on July 1, 2016.

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