This last year has cracked my soul completely open and I feel all of it spilling out. Spilling out so rapidly that I cannot possibly grasp it all to shove back in before it floats away in a million different directions on the breeze. And I’ve been here before in this race to not lose every part of me and be left to fill up the entirety of my being with newer versions of myself.

I know how gut wrenchingly painful and exhausting that is, to have to start from nothing. Not having the tiniest glimpse of who you are to go off of in the rebuilding process. No jumping off point. No direction.

Through the loss and discoveries of the last year, they have left me wondering if I can trust my own thoughts. It’s left me with this clawing sensation, one trying so desperately to break out of my chest cavity in order to not be misunderstood. To not be viewed as any sort of negative thing. But a deep knowing that I don’t HAVE to be liked by everyone to be worthy. I don’t have to know that people blindly trust me with their well-being or their best interests because I’m not sure even I can trust my own mind all of the time.

It seems to play tricks on me often. It’s constantly asking me to question every thought, every action, every word that slips past my lips, that there are an infinite reasons I did or said or thought something. That’s there’s an infinite ways any one of those will be perceived. And being constantly driven by morals makes me also question if my set of morals are too big or too small for this world. Wondering if I’m comprehending all the possibilities or depths of it all or if my world stops at a very surface level and it’s the reason why I’m constantly feeling lost in a sea of things too great for my own understanding.

I’m trying, so hard, all of the time. And learning to also be okay with some people not seeing that.