epi_speaks

they're telling me it's time…

My generation…

& the ones that come after me, we don’t know how to say goodbye. We never left home, not really. I’ve had facebook since my freshman year of college. I check it the moment I wake up. I know that there are some out there, who might judge me by the contents of my digitized address book. There are pictures, posts and thoughts dating back to late adolescence. Nothing is forgotten. No one is forgotten.

So why, then, do so many feel so alone? If we can have a record of almost everything we’ve ever said, if we are one click away from contact with almost anyone, why this shadow of pervasive loneliness? There’s more to say, but too much to do…

i’m just writing this because i said i would

i’m very tired but i’ve stopped sleeping. i hate this time of year.

here’s what i want you to know

i’m lying (is it laying?) in bed, having recently purchased the most beautiful (and simple) journal i’ve ever had the fortune to own. itunes is on with the shuffle off; i’m playing the same songs i’ve been playing for the last two months. over and over they play. over and over, i hear. my heart hurts and i’m calling out to God for reprieve. i no longer trust my own ability to write, or even speak. if i could, i would hide beneath my bed for a month praying. i believe i would emerge from that exercise beautiful, full of God, and finally (how long have i been waiting for this?) at peace.

i can’t do that. i can’t hide. no, i can. but i won’t. i’ll rise from this bed in a few minutes, position my exhausted limbs to stand, and then i’ll move. though i believe my freedom would come from hiding and hashing out my various issues with the all-everything being I’ve name father, there is no time. the time for waiting has passed. (i wasted my waiting time holding my breath and praying for something different. praying to be someone different. my prayers went unanswered. i find i’m exceedingly grateful for that. i think i hope my prayers for reprieve might go unanswered too. i want nothing more than to survive this; to emerge on the other side of my current trials as something broken, but perhaps beautiful.)

again, this isn’t a post to say anything other than, “i think i might have something to say; if only i knew what it was, I would speak; waiting for perfection hasn’t worked and instead, i’ll speak my way into saying something; i no longer care about beauty (i don’t know if i would recognize it even if it came to me), i just want to say what i’ve been trying to say for the last 14 months.” these days, this has to be enough. i’m doing the best i can. that has to be enough. don’t you understand? sometimes, we have to move forward with striving for perfection even when (especially when) we see our attempts and failures play out side by side.

yes, this has to be enough, because it’s all i have.

where do we go next?

as those no longer able to be qualified as “kids” and no longer at the starting mark of (a sure to be cliched) life, where do we go next? i mean, what are we supposed to do now?

they don’t feel comfortable calling us adults either. in this world where you need experience to get experience, potential has become something we’ve wasted, and not something waiting (when did this happen?). now, we are (i am?) just something to shake one’s head at… say “tsk. tsk. what could have been.”

i have these moments lately, where i think about yesterday (everything i promised myself i’d do, everything i’ve done) and my heart wraps around itself, constricting until even breathing hurts. this isn’t panic. panic is wild. passionate, or something, sometimes. this is slow and easy. i haven’t panicked in so long, i’m sure i’m unable to. if i were to visit a psychiatrist, she’d say… “you’re cured of your propensity to overthink and then over-freak out about things that don’t even matter. hurrah.” for some reason, that makes me want to freak out. as though, even my neuroses have given up on me. oh well. welcome to the mid-20s. all of the expectations, none of the confidence. all of the dreams, none of the energy.

this, i feel, is when people generally give up and choose mediocrity. i’ll pass on that though.

terrified

Yesterday, I had my first post-MSW job interview. I knew halfway through that I would not be getting the job. I didn’t expect to. But still… I had this moment, before it was confirmed, where I questioned… my place, my point.

I’m not driven. It’s strange to finally admit that, but it’s still true. I’m not a driven person. I’m a hard worker (if there’s a task, I’ll work tirelessly [albeit, at the last minute] to carry it out). I’m personable. I’m not detail-oriented. I hate group projects. The idea of teamwork makes my mouth dry up, and my heart pound. I don’t like commitment. I love a challenge. I thrive in a constantly moving and changing environment. I don’t know what I’m doing. When I was younger, I always imagined that eventually, I’d get it. That one day I would wake up and BAM, I’d have a clue about all of this. Nope.

That’s it. No post where I eventually work myself into some type of understanding. No great revelation.