And nothing has changed for me.

Well, not NOTHING. SOMETHING has changed. I mean yeah, my waistline is…well back to what it was. I could blame the pandemic I guess, but that would be disingenuous. I just liked eating shitty for the last year.

Also I met someone. Not like someone in general, obviously I meet people every year. But I mean SOMEONE. Like a girl. So, there’s that. I’ve lost my “lonely” label and therefor am no longer entitled to depression. That’s how that works right? I found an inkling of happiness, so that means things are good. Clearly.

I only ever come to this place when I need to escape; when I need a safe haven for my crowded head to unload every terrible thought and talk my way through the darkness that is my existential crisis. I mean, it’s not a crisis…I’m OK. I’m doing alright. I have mini-panic attacks and often wish I could disappear without hurting people…but like…that’s normal right? I mean, I guess it’s just a factor of keeping my head involved in too many different facets of life: school, work, social needs, family issues, financial issues, and now a new relationship that I haven’t even had time to process yet.

I don’t know if anyone realizes this yet but…I haven’t even figured out how to be an adult as a single person. Like, I don’t know if I’m actually a FUNCTIONING adult. And now I have to figure out how to be an adult while interacting romantically with another adult who’s happiness is also dependent on my own happiness and our cohabitation of that place that people find while with each other…

All of that is just a complicated way of saying this: I am super concerned that I am not prepared for life as an adult. Or I should say, as a fully operational adult. It’s true, yeah, I’ve been an adult technically for 13 years. 18 came and went, so did 19 and so on. Now I’m staring down the barrel at 32 and I’m almost for sure not where I want to be as a person. And I don’t mean financially or career wise – I understand life changes and circumstances rise and dissipate…but I mean in a “what kind of person can I be defined as?” way. And I know that these are questions that plague the best of us; the ones who have it figured out even if they don’t have it figured out. And maybe that’s the point? That to ourselves we’re constantly growing and evolving, but to others we seem to have found the area of our existence where we have hit our proverbial stride. A sort of comfort zone…

But what is comfort, you know? How do we know we’ve reached it? If our existence is meant to be continuously evolving, when do we get to rest? When can we be happy? Or rather, enjoy our happiness?

I’m asking all of these questions when I know the answer will never come. I’m fully aware I’ll reach a point where I feel like it’s the answer…the end point…but know it won’t be. So then, what’s the point? Why even do this? Why put myself through the intellectual gymnastics needed to even ask questions I don’t have the capacity to interpret?

Maybe it’s because we’ve grown up on entertainment. A clear start and end point; the movie starts, there’s a problem, the main character finds a solution, then he finishes in a better mental position than he started…there’s resolution. A finality to stories that we look for our entire lives that never comes. We are immersed in these serial versions of life from childhood…30 minutes here, 30 minutes there. It’s all become so rehearsed at this point. We search for our own personal Everest’s, hoping to climb it triumphantly and feel the satisfaction of a resolution; to feel the tension of the rising action and the relief of the fallout, where we have this moment of clarity and we say to ourselves “this is it…this is where I was meant to be.”

The truth of the matter though, is that hundreds to thousands of people have died on their trek up Everest…what does that say about our own personal journeys into the centers of our souls? Are there parts of our lives that we have to shed to return triumphant? Should we feel shamed that we didn’t even start the journey? That we turned around at base camp? Is there shame in dying along the way? Or, rather, is there shame in parts of us leaving along the way? Maybe the trek itself is meant to aid us in discarding any part of us that isn’t meant to reach the top? Maybe it is a case of evolution.


Maybe some people aren’t meant to achieve that moment. Maybe it’s a special occasion that can’t be had by all. If that’s the case…if I’m one of those people that’s never meant to experience that moment…reach that point…find that spot…then what do I strive for?

I can work forever, try to strive for the absolute best all the time, but if it never brings me solace from this racing mind…when is it OK to just relax? Is that my moment of clarity? Did I just do it? Have I found the…

Yeah, fucking right? I was about to write LOL as if I was having a real textual conversation with myself. A meta back and forth that maybe that realization was the one I was looking for…

I’m wrong though. That’s not it. I mean, yeah it could be; let’s not delude ourselves into thinking I’m bound for greatness. I could, or I couldn’t be…but maybe figuring out that I don’t HAVE to be is part of my growth. I used to say I wouldn’t stop until I was great…until my name was etched in lights next to the absolute best of the best. But honestly…those people are just people. Like me. I think that’s a bit of growing that I have actually done. I’ve grown to realize that the people I looked up to as a young kid…or younger anyways…have just as many issues and flaws as I do. I mean, yeah…they’re rich and I’m not. I’m sure that helps them deal with their many faults. If I had a bank account that had more 0’s than letters in my name, then yeah…I’d be fine with myself too.

Money is the solution it seems.

It’s not, that’s a joke. Money is the root of all evil. Well…most evil. Not all evil, cause like…it’s nice to be able to buy stuff you need.

So here I sit…again. I’m staring at a computer screen waiting to put my life together. Almost an entire year since the last time I did the exact same thing. This time I just happen to have a partner…somewhat. I write these entries on this page to put my thoughts into the ether; to give myself a place to escape in times that I need to escape. They’re open for anyone to read, but I don’t share them because it’s better to read these things without the knowledge of who I am. Maybe my words can help someone one of these days. If anything, someone can see how fucking crazy I am, and feel better about their thoughts. Or maybe I help put to words feelings that others share…that maybe making a realization that things aren’t supposed to feel resolved, that there is no ending to our spiritual or personal growth stories…that it just continues, until one day it stops. Maybe making that realization is what we need…

It’s ok to not have things figured out. It’s ok to be here…where you are…wherever that is. Feel the moments around you and let them happen however they’re supposed to happen. Cherish the memories that form out of the places you’ve come from and the places you’re going. Don’t let worries of the future and anxiety over goals distract you from the journey – even failure is a part of it.

One of these days I’ll not need this blog. Maybe I’ll pass the name and URL to someone who can utilize it the same way I do…to further understand themselves in relation to the rest of the world…or even just themselves to themselves. I judge myself based on the potential I felt my parents saw in me…and maybe that’s why I’ve failed so often. I aim to make them proud, and I used to think they expected me to be president or something. I hold these incredibly high standards for myself because they aren’t here to tell me how proud of me they are. I feel like they would be, and I think this is the first time I’ve ever really said it out loud – or written it down.

I don’t know. Maybe I’ll find some answers one of these days. Until then, I’ll keep coming back to this space and laying out my inner turmoils on a yearly basis. Maybe even more frequent. Who knows.