Mindless

At the end of the day, when I finally put my head to rest on a pillow and close my eyes, funny little notions come up, seemingly out of the woodworks, and irritate me to no ends. These seemingly innocuous questions have recently started to bother me. They’re not the type that makes you wake up with a sweat, or the type that gets you up in frenzy. Rather, they’re the gnawing kind, one that persists and makes you sad.

I realized that I do not even take an hour off each day for myself. That I do not remember the last time I went somewhere that I had truly wanted to go to. I seriously cannot imagine when it was that I crossed over to the side where everything has to be “socially acceptable”. Being myself is a struggle that I gave up on. Doesn’t that mean I gave up on myself? Extrapolating that, am I not lying to myself? Am I not just cajoling myself along a path that I do not wish to be on?

Then the question arises – why then would I do it? Social pressure? I sincerely cannot say so, because in my lifestyle, I do not consciously make decisions based on “what others may say”. That makes the problem worse. The social pressure factor now has been sewn into my DNA. I guess then the little thoughts are my subconscious’ way of letting me in on the struggle.

Am I even making any sense anymore?