It already feels quite presumptuous of me to think I know anything at all with any sense of certainty. Besides my fraudulent feelings, I’ll go ahead and write this. I’ll write about how I think I know anything for sure but with the secret whispers at the back of my mind telling me of just how little I actually do know.
Right now, while sitted in the dark with only a lamp on, I know for sure that I’m still gaining a bearing of my life. I’m still finding my footing if I may say so. For a minute there, I didn’t feel so darn lost. I felt like for the first time in a long time, my feet were planted on the ground and I felt the feathery light touch of hope deeply seated in my soul. It’s embers still burn but I can feel them dying out. I wish to hold on to them for just a little longer. I don’t want to go back to feeling hollow because then, I’m not how much hope will ever be restored again. As I write this, I say with little conviction about gaining a bearing in my life because maybe for starters, I don’t know what a steady bearing would truly look like. I don’t know if then, I’ll have figured out what it’s like to tumble off my feet but graciously stand back up again. Will happiness feel less foreign, will joy feel less like a fabrication of my imagination or will peace feel a little less fleeting? For now, I have neither of those answers, I guess it’s part of gaining that bearing… I’m gaining a footing with shoes that didn’t always feel like they belonged on my feet.
I think for this, I can say with a little bit more conviction; I will never have everything figured out and I’m quite okay with that. I’ll probably never have anything figured out but I could be wrong. I ask a lot of questions, and I probably always will and I never seek out the answers from the world because they aren’t theirs to answer, they are mine. I think that if I ever remotely get answers to my myriad of questions, then I’ll be well on my way to having things figured out. For now, I’m still trying figure out if in this life, there’s anything for me worth being curious over. Someone’s therapist once said, “You don’t have to feel hopeful about the future, it’s enough to be curious about whatever’s coming. “ For now, curiosity is keeping me alive and maybe that’s enough for now. Like I said, figuring things out. I’ll probably never attain the best version of myself, seems like a lot of people seek that out. For me to seek that part of me, I’d have to believe it exists which the odds aren’t really in my favour.
Lastly, what I think I know for sure, whatever version of me that’s there now, might still not want to wake up every morning, might still feel absolutely lost, might still not know what the fuck is going on but, is still a sexy piece of shit 😆. Got you there didn’t I… I may be a self hating piece of shit, but at least I’m a sexy one to that. But who am I kidding..