I feel like a stranger to myself. I don't know what's going on. I am lonely and crave people. Then I crave to be alone. I fear all the usual questions. I'm 22. People seem so interested in what you want to do with your life at 22. Chances are you finished college, so obviously you're on a path to do something, right? I don't know. What the hell am I doing?
And then there's "How are you?" You would think it's the easiest question to answer. And I don't even know that. Part of me wants to say "Life is great, I'm traveling, I have money, I'm young with all my limbs and senses intact. I have a roof over my head and friends all over the world," but I can also imagine myself just breaking down and not being able to explain why. If the average woman cries 30 to 60 times a year, I've probably broken some record then.
Having this mind of mine is exhausting. Sometimes I listen to podcasts to give my brain a break. It doesn't often work. My time as a waitress ended last week and my first instinct was to buy a ticket to Dublin for the next day. Dara offered his guest room. It was my chance to be wild and spontaneous! Something I am not. I tend to over-think. And that is, in fact, exactly what happened. For a week I went back and forth between wanting to go to Dublin and being afraid of going to Dublin and spending too much time alone.
But yeah, fuck it. I'm going to Dublin tomorrow. And I am pretty sure that most of that time will be spent alone. But I'll do work – music, blogging, writing, reading, making art. I'll have time to think. Over-think, let's be honest. Figure out how to feel more connected to my own life.