Work in progress

Most of the time my head is exploding with thoughts and emotions and sometimes it’s all so much will I open up my laptop, open up a new blog post draft and attempt to write it all down. I stare into the blank page, bursting with thoughts, but I type nothing. So many thoughts I want to express, question and share, yet as soon as I try to write I can’t put anything into words. I close the tab and forget I even tried. Who cares anyway, right? Just another young girl discovering the same things every girl before her discovered at her age. What’s so special about my thoughts? I assume I am no Einstein. But (and I don’t mean this in a vain way) what if I am? What if I actually have something to share? What if I actually have something original to say or a new way of looking at something? What if my perspective actually leads to something bigger for myself or others? Who would know? I’ve grown up my whole life believing I’m nothing special. Don’t get me wrong, my parent’s have always encouraged me to do my best and loved me unconditionally, and my friends have never put me down either. But despite that, I have never thought I was good enough to break out of the mould. Work hard, do as teachers, parents and authorities say, exactly, and follow this life curriculum that everyone else seems to follow. Yet, when I watch a documentary about someone, go to an art museum or even a restaurant, who is it that’s being praised? It’s not the countless faceless individuals that did what they were told and faded away like they never existed. No. It’s the ones that were brave, who stood up for their own ambitions, ideas and believes. The bold who dared explore themselves and the world around them. The ones who created in news ways that no one else could have imagined and who took us to new places, intellectually, emotionally, creatively, spiritually and sensory.

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In my short journey of life so far I have met so many different people, some boring and vanilla, some lovely and adorable, some mad and judgemental. Sometimes though, you meet people who literally take your breath away. They can be far and long between, but when they do pop into your life they make you sigh in awe. I’ve always thought to myself that I’m still young and that I couldn’t possible have or have done anything that is worth anything to the world at this point. I’m young, I don’t know anything about life or about living. But then I meet these people, who are so creative, so driven and so unstoppable and I panic and wonder why I am not. How have these young people become so old, so full of wisdom and have such a wholesome understanding of themselves, everyone, everything. Maybe I should be brave too. Believe in myself. Be in fact a bit vain. Not be so bogged down in what I think people think I should be, but rather what I could be.

I’ve given up on a lot of things through my life. Things I gave up at the time and have only just realized it now. I’ve always thought in the past it was because I had had a short attention span, but now I look back and I wonder if it was that or if I never saw my own potential. I never wanted to do junior horse riding competitions at my local riding school because I was scared I wasn’t good enough. I never committed to learning to play the guitar my parents bought me for my birthday. I burst out crying in front of my choir teachers for my first and only audition because I was too afraid. I never even read that many books, or continued my childhood love of drawing, or explored anything daring like fashion and owning a sense of personal style. I never wanted to be truly seen. Growing up I enjoyed that existence. I enjoyed not being much, and just doing my school work (and getting praise for my grades) and hanging out with friends. It was by no means a bad existence. I even found a love of nature and wildlife and a direction in my mould of life I was happy to pursue.

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Right now though I meet these people who are so much more than me at my own age and I wonder why I aren’t equally as deep or fulfilled. I’ve had a happy childhood and upbringing, with so much love, safety and opportunities. Why do I feel like something deep inside is still missing? Am I supposed to have it all now, or am I hastily searching for a personal “nirvana” that will only come to me on my death bed when everything in life suddenly makes sense. I want to feel a connection to something that inspires me, I want to learn things like knit, crochet, paint and make wooden tables. Have skills like identifying birds by their songs or growing my own vegetables. I would love to defy what’s holding me back, myself, and do those things I never dared doing when I was younger, like riding horses in competitions, playing the guitar or drawing. I want to pursue beautiful things in life, like traditions, skills and knowledge. Things that make me happy, expands my horizon, inspires me and touches my soul. Most importantly, I want to do them now. I don’t want to keep telling myself that I can do it when I am older, when I have money and time (which I kinda know I will have less of the older I get, until I retire). I don’t want to keep believing that I’m not good enough or old enough to pursue these dreams, and to only keep dreaming. I highly doubt I will become the next Einstein or the next Picasso. But I am going to stop telling myself I could never become one of those people.

Starting with not deleting this text of tumbling, erratic thoughts like I always do and posting it.

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