Finally came back to this site. I have like 7 blogs. Most are invisible to you, the visitor. Some of them were projects long dead, unused, and yet I can't part with them. It's strange to look back at what you've written and wonder "Is that really me?"
I read a short story I wrote, I liked the writing, but the author (me) was much to vague and too caught up in painting a pretty picture. It's good to have this much honestly, I think that time has helped in allowing me to detach from my piece of work.
I say that I can accept hard criticism, but boy is it hard to swallow it down without being defensive. Like recently, I applied for a Summer Research Experience for Undergraduate and my personal statement really ... was not good (MB said it was so, and I respect her writing abilities). That really cut holes in my confidence. I mean, I can make excuses for it, such as "I'm not familiar with writing this kind of formal paper". But truth is, I need practice.
Thus my return. But I want to use this site as more of a exercise rather than whining about this. >.>
Which btw if you're wondering. My life is going good. All my minor problems are like a different colored brush stroke on a canvas, layered over and over upon each other, to the point where the only color I can see is brown. It's a slow buzzing bother that I've been to busy with other things to notice.
If I could make a wish right now, it wouldn't to be instantly happy, but to be given the environment and skills to find my happiness. I feel like I'm in a foggy room just waiting for everything to clear, but it wont't happen. There's too many expectations and I'm just too tired to fight against them to gain the clarity of joy anymore.
I know Im sick, not physically but mentally and spiritually. I lack the empathy for a fellow friend, and just want to be left alone to sleep. Sometimes I wish I could just shut myself away in a coma, it would make life so simple.
But I've got bills to pay, night shifts to work, assignments due, life to live.
... sometimes I wonder how people are able to drag themselves out of their addictions, it seems so easy and tempting to just drown in them and worry about no one but one's self and the next high.
Not that I get high. I'm much to responsible for that. Plus I don't want to put people I love through that, nor do I want a chained life like that. Freedom comes at a high cost, at the lowest point all one can do is hope that it means something, and at the highest, it's like breathing for the first time.
K, time for homework now. Bah. lol.
