Freestyle with my ukulele. A story of child abuse.
The year started with utter chaos. I had found myself after such long expanded attempts and have lost myself in an instant. How impeccably ironic. How insanely sane it is to be capable of losing your lives progress within a moment. And in what moment has it been lost? I cannot say. I view myself as unbreakable, yet break unknowingly rather quickly, I find when reflected on. Merely moments of weakness or truly breaching my limits? The fact that I am so incapable of answering these questions leads me to believe I have in fact lost myself. We all have an ideal self. But is this ideal who we truly think we are or just a socially portrayed idea of unobtainable perfection? I have the sense that I am a particular person and I cannot be happy unless I align my life with this mentally created happy version of myself. Is this not insanity? Is this not brilliance? I have an idea of exactly how to be happy and yet I refuse to let myself live this internal self. Is this due to external pressures insisting me to be someone else? Or possibly past habits that challenge my attempts to change? Honestly, deeply, is this what we are supposed to feel? I can see my soul, yet it’s just out of grasp.