I'm gazing out a window that faces directly into another building. There's nothing more boring than that, looking out, expecting to be met with a revolutionary vision of a world hustling and bustling with life, and being met with walls. Just more things to keep people in.
I'm feeling empty today, like any words I could string together won't end up making any sense. There are no thoughts running through my head, only errands, strings of things I have to force myself to do. They aren't really errands, they're tasks.
The word errand implies that its something I kind of want to do, or am doing for myself. Tasks are done for others, or in an attempt to better one's-self. What if bettering one's self isn't the answer?
I know where my self destruct button is, I always have. I have to make the active and consistent choice to leave it untouched. I have to choose to not push it. In the late nights I've spent sitting up in my bed, the page in front of me...blank, devoid of any substance, I have felt like my purpose is lost. I'm lost. When the words don't come out I don't really have anything to improve. All I have is base human, a level I have never been comfortable with.
When I am forced to function without any creativity I end up feeling very destructive. Almost to the point where I have to torture myself with my own thoughts of, "See, I told you you weren't good enough" or "You knew this would happen...it always happens."
I guess, what I'm trying to say, is that this might be the end of an era. I'm picking up again to move back to the US in a few days, and the beyond is foggy. Just the idea of the flight is giving me the jitters. Touchdown, now that's another story.
Coping with the unknown is never easy, especially when you're walking into a battle blindfolded, essentially.