Singing to the stars make the wind seem alive and my throat more dry. But I like the scratch, that I do.
The joy of being alone is realizing
1. How not alone you really are
2. Getting over the fear of wanting people.
I am surrounded by warming strangers who greet me kindly, yet I am worried about being loved.
I want to love myself. And stop finding myself through others. I think there were wonderful women in my life who brought the best in me...but I have seen how that ended and how reliant I felt in needing to be okay.
No thanks.
I know the right thing is to truth people again. But right now I know if I trust people again I'll travel the same road again. Where I'll go the distance and expect the same. Tell me you have not all the done the same for others and felt that emptiness. The fact that you have and I have means that we are good people, but also that we are constantly seeking validation from sources that do not offer it.
The people who have become unforgotten memories in my life were great people, but I was too reliant on validating myself through caring for them, and like good people, they gave until they couldn't. I don't want to put anyone in that position, nor do I want to appear needy, be it for that matter. I'll be more aloof here, or realistically, just more profession. I don't know what that will mean in practice I guess.
Will I still stay up in the middle of the night just to hear about someone's heartbreak? Plan outings to places of other people's choice to make them happy? Probably not. For I see shades of my old self in the volunteers, damn good qualities. They can be the people I'm no longer comfortable being. But right now, I'm so numb, or maybe just insecure, that if I did these things, I would do them out of mechanical functions rather than passion, and God help me if I become fake.
I miss Tammy, I do care for her out of the numbness. Her, Graham and Scott are the three my grade year that have been unconditional in friend, and also, this is key, have grown with me maturely.But boy does God make a good audience, like these stars. He gives me a beautiful couch to recline as I gaze into Mt. Kilimanjaro. Today, I took my guitar out in the morning, with my backpack, denim jacket I wore in Bangladesh, checked black and white scarf, and Dad's sunglasses, to behold breathlessly the sight of Olympus (the irony of that statement doesn't elude me or my faith).
Just wow, seriously. I sang the lovely Kiswahili song Howa (my host sister) and I made the night before to random passerbys, motorbike taxi drivers, and all else who would listen. Now, here beneath the stars.
I'm happy to be alone because
1. I'm not
2. Life can be beautiful with my ego and insecurities out of the way.
The joy of being alone is realizing
1. How not alone you really are
2. Getting over the fear of wanting people.
I am surrounded by warming strangers who greet me kindly, yet I am worried about being loved.
I want to love myself. And stop finding myself through others. I think there were wonderful women in my life who brought the best in me...but I have seen how that ended and how reliant I felt in needing to be okay.
No thanks.
I know the right thing is to truth people again. But right now I know if I trust people again I'll travel the same road again. Where I'll go the distance and expect the same. Tell me you have not all the done the same for others and felt that emptiness. The fact that you have and I have means that we are good people, but also that we are constantly seeking validation from sources that do not offer it.
The people who have become unforgotten memories in my life were great people, but I was too reliant on validating myself through caring for them, and like good people, they gave until they couldn't. I don't want to put anyone in that position, nor do I want to appear needy, be it for that matter. I'll be more aloof here, or realistically, just more profession. I don't know what that will mean in practice I guess.
Will I still stay up in the middle of the night just to hear about someone's heartbreak? Plan outings to places of other people's choice to make them happy? Probably not. For I see shades of my old self in the volunteers, damn good qualities. They can be the people I'm no longer comfortable being. But right now, I'm so numb, or maybe just insecure, that if I did these things, I would do them out of mechanical functions rather than passion, and God help me if I become fake.
I miss Tammy, I do care for her out of the numbness. Her, Graham and Scott are the three my grade year that have been unconditional in friend, and also, this is key, have grown with me maturely.But boy does God make a good audience, like these stars. He gives me a beautiful couch to recline as I gaze into Mt. Kilimanjaro. Today, I took my guitar out in the morning, with my backpack, denim jacket I wore in Bangladesh, checked black and white scarf, and Dad's sunglasses, to behold breathlessly the sight of Olympus (the irony of that statement doesn't elude me or my faith).
Just wow, seriously. I sang the lovely Kiswahili song Howa (my host sister) and I made the night before to random passerbys, motorbike taxi drivers, and all else who would listen. Now, here beneath the stars.
I'm happy to be alone because
1. I'm not
2. Life can be beautiful with my ego and insecurities out of the way.
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