The last few weeks have been hard. I have struggled. I am back to a familiar place where I don’t know where I am going. My path only seems clear momentarily and then it is all muddled. I can’t quite see the purpose that is at the end of this long road called life. The one thing I want more than anything in life is to know my purpose before I die. I may never fulfill this purpose but I still want to know. It is the one question that ways on my shoulders every single day of my life. In moments I think I know what I want and think maybe I have already met my purpose but I just can’t believe that. My heart is too big and my mind is too strong and I haven’t fought the long battle and won yet. Well at least that is what it feels like. I haven’t figured it all out yet. I know I may never figure it out. Ultimately there may be nothing to figure out but I can’t believe that the kindness in my heart that I ache to give away and the love I want to share serves no purpose. Who I am on the outside and who I am on the inside are 2 very different people. The true me will never be expressed in vocal word. The true me can always be found on paper…through words…through an expression that allows me to say anything and everything I want without feeling one ounce of guilt or self doubt. Whether I write the words or type them…that will always be the real me. The real me that is only known by me and me only. The me that can cry behind closed doors when no one is around because I think about the people I love and don’t know if they know how much I love them because my words never seem to be enough. To me the words are never enough. The me that can drive with the windows rolled down with music as loud as it can be that feels every emotion all at once and would hold onto that moments forever if I could. The me that revisits moments I have written down my thoughts and still wonders exactly what I want out of life.
I want to write a book of my thoughts. A book that may take me years to write because moments of my life are ever changing and I put the book down to live and revisit it in moments to soak the paper with my words. I want to express my feelings as I feel them even if it does not seem to follow any chronological order. In truth I already have written this book. I have written many pages of it. Some pages I have kept and some have been long lost. Some of the pages have been thrown out because in that moment I didn’t see then what I see now. I want to share this book with the world but would anyone read it? I want to express my concerns for what I envision the world to be and shout my fears as loud as possible…but can you hear my shout through the words on this paper? If not then you aren’t listening close enough.
I want to get into the minds of others. I want to open doors into different worlds that are so unlike my own. I want to experience true love and true pain so I can say I understand what both really are. I want to know what makes others tick and see how different the world is behind the eyes of someone else.