LOST IN MY HEAD

I've been a little unsure of where I stand with my blog lately, and I've had a serious case of writer's block. I guess that comes from forcing out all those blogmas posts. That might not sound very impressive to someone who writes twice that in a month, but I'm beat. It was fun, and it gave me a chance to really embrace this creative outlet & remember why I love it so much. I just don't know what to do right now. 

I've been feeling a lot of different emotions this past month or so; sometimes all at once, other times I don't feel anything at all. I'm being bombarded by all of these ridiculous emotions, these thoughts and ideas, life, just everything. There's so much I want to do and say, but it all gets to be too much, or I can't sort through what I'm thinking and feeling. It's almost like if I were to have millions of books in the shelves in my mind, but they're all over the floor and flying around as well. As much as I try to pinch a certain book from the air, it evades my touch and flies away. As much as I try to bring some form of organisation to these books of memories, thoughts, life, I just can't. 

While I'm grounded, and while I like to think I understand the world quite well, I don't know how well I'm getting by. Sometimes I feel lost in my head, and as I try to make progress on this long-ass journey, I keep veering off the path. I don't even mean to veer off this path, it's like I'm pushed away from my goals by anxiety and depression and angsty teenagers. All this stuff is just too much for one little human alone. I want someone to help me, but how could they? That messy library with flying books has a lock, and there's only one key which is in my possession. I could give the key to someone else, but I'm too afraid that they would lock me out of my own head. I can't lose control, not now.

I should have friends helping me, maybe a boyfriend, or even my parents (I kid, that wouldn't go down well), but instead I'm quite alone. I want their help, but at the same time I can't part with this independence I cling so strongly to. What if they do it wrong? At least if I make a mistake, it's at my own hand, but what am I supposed to do when someone else makes a mistake with my life? What if someone I love pushes me off the path? 

I don't want to feel guilty about others mistakes, about constantly thinking about them doing something wrong. I don't want to feel guilty if I ask for help and become any sort of dependent on them because they haven't made a mistake. I don't want to lose that independence I have, if I can even call it that. It's more-so my stubborn need to prove that I don't need anyone's help, that I don't want any hand outs. I can't take those hand outs. I can't think about giving my key to my library to someone else so they can help sort through and organise my books. I can't think about falling off the path into a ditch, and seeing someone else's pitying smile as they offer a helping hand. 

When you hold onto all of these emotions, thoughts, wants, you become heavy. Do you remember in Little Red Riding Hood, when Little Red Riding Hood is cut out of the wolf's stomach by a man, so they and her grandmother fill the wolf's stomach with stones so the wolf still thinks he's full up on people? That's how I feel when I hold onto things. I feel like I've swallowed too many emotions, too much pain and confusion, and I just want to lie there knowing full well I've not swallowed anything that would sustain or help me. 

Or you might feel like you're ever so slowly sinking. You sink until you reach the bottom of the ocean, but it isn't dark and scary like people would think. There's still light from the sun surrounding you, and it brings with it an illusion of happiness or relief from the world. You think everything is fine, even when you know it isn't. The reality is simply too much to bare, so you go on piling more and more books in your library, you dawdle away from your path while stealing glances at it. 

I no longer with to feel this heavy all the time, not that I did before. This heavy feeling seems to always accompany my desperate refusals of any help, from anyone. That independence I strive for in some parts of my life, I have no time for in others. The heavy feeling goes away when I escape into a library that isn't my own, but was built for me to make it so. These contradictions, the changes I need in my life, possibilities, everything I dream about, they're in my head. My library full of books, the ocean I'm sinking in, the path I try to follow, they're in my head. 

I still want to have these things, I don't want them erased from my head or let out to run wild somewhere else too far for my mind & imagination to follow, I want them with me. I want them with me because I need their comfort, I need their reminder that while chances seem to be floating or running past me, I can run and float too. I can free myself from the locked library and open the door, I can swim up to the surface of the ocean, I can widen the path in the forest and explore the beauty it has to offer. I don't have to run, I don't have to hide, I don't have to refuse. I can simply be. I forget that sometimes, but I don't want to forget anymore. I want to remember, to always know, that I can be anything and everything.