I've been avoiding writing in my blog lately. I'm only two posts deep, and it's not to say that I'm already tiring of blogging - because I am in fact feeling injected with a new-found passion for exploiting the thoughts that do the very same to my brain. However, I'm finding it difficult to fulfill the purpose of initially starting my blog (See post #1), because I am not doing it anonymously. I can't write how I really feel, because I've opened the doors to my closest friends, family, and any future contact of any relation. I can express to an extent, but writing in a blog has offered an unexpected challenge to me: Fear nothing. Fear not that brothers and sisters will perhaps indulge in the unraveling of my conscious, or that they may challenge my acumen and lucidity of wellness. What it really boils down to, is fear not being myself.
Some fears are petty. Take my fear of not perfecting a post as if it were a college essay - I'm so eager to share what's on my mind that I worry if I don't craft it with such precision, these thoughts will be lost in translation to my readers. And readers - who actually cares what I have to say? The thing is, it wasn't until my good friend and fellow blogger Alyssa pointed something out to me, that I realized I might not give as many craps as to who really ingests my words - I'm doing this for me. To document what I wish I had always documented. For the countless nights rolling around trying to grasp the derivatives of worries and postulations that succumb me into a limbo, a limbo of careless insomnia that I have somehow learned to love and loathe instantaneously together. This being said, I'm going to start working on caring less and just spilling it out. I will let the different colored paints soak into whatever crevices they so desire.
Besides fear, it is a surfeit of worries that have me so busy I have not been able to even fathom another late-night purging of thoughts lately. Yes, the sources are steadfast - those of school, extracurricular responsibilities, and relationships. I worry every ounce of effort I exert into my studies, that it will not pay off into acceptance to the school I so desire to be a part of; I worry I will not avenge the leader that exists within and have always been able to rely on before; that my current residence is really a home; and that my inability to stay transfixed on any one suitor will result in a future of loneliness. The latter of those four is really what I am most confused about (because worrying about the future is not confusing, just unknown).
I was told the other night: "Lisa Evanson, I am going to steal your heart," and I was instantly intrigued. Simultaneously, I found myself envisioning my oh-so-reliable course of concurrence--lost interest at the point of some undefined variable that masks my love life. I've always wanted what I think I can't have, and never want what wants me. Perhaps this is also why I've had a peaked interest in someone who I feel I really can't read. It's quite frustrating and exciting. All the same, I feel like a cheater... That anyone who dares try to woo me, is really playing a game that inevitably results in their heart's demise. God, how arrogant I sound, when really what I mean to say is... I'm praying. I'm praying to stumble into something unplanned and unsought-out. Someone to enjoy the little things with and feel like happiness is so effortless. For a best friend who just so happens to be more than a best friend.
Ew, I can't believe I just wrote that. I hope no one reads that but I'm going to post this anyways because I promised myself to be more carefree with putting myself out there. I also promised myself not to edit or perfect any more posts, so I'm going to click "Publish" and say "So be it" even though I'm pretty sure I left this post off on a tangent. Then I'm going to eat some pretzels, jump in the shower, and try not to feel so weird about having written when the sun is fully up - this feels just as weird as it does to be fully rested, awake in the morning after a night's sleep, etc... all foreign feelings.
Moral of the story is: all challenges accepted.
Welp, bye!
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