What is wrong? Why don’t I feel well? Why do I react so strongly when I feel that I’m being reprimanded? Why do I take things so personally? Why do I feel like I’m being fussed at? I didn’t do anything wrong. I even know I didn’t do anything wrong. I know she isn’t angry at me. I’m just so tired. and I just don’t feel well. Why does everything feel so overwhelming and so just big and overdone? It just isn’t that important, is it? No. It fucking isn’t.
I need to fucking relax. I need to stop taking life so fucking seriously. What was it my Mawmaw said? Life is but a dream… Life is fucking whatever. It isn’t whatever this seems to be. We overdramatize it. We make it seem like such a fucking big deal. We work so hard, and stress ourselves out. And for what? For a fucking heart attack. For heart break. And we do it to ourselves. For headaches. For war. For poverty. For wealth. For the possibility that we will have the things that we want. That we will be what we want. But what is it that we want? Do we really want what it is that we want?
When am I truly happiest? What honestly gives me absolute, genuine pleasure? When do I honestly live in the moment? When am I living? I love sitting down in our kitchen at the stupid, low bar (which I normally hate) and eating a meal with my husband (and kids too!). I love hanging out with my husband and our friends outdoors at a restaurant. I love traveling with my husband and kids. I think I would enjoy traveling with friends. I loved being at Inyati and seeing the leopardess and elephants. They moved me. I love watching my cats and petting them, playing with them, and snuggling with them--when they let me. I love when the weather is cool enough for me to wear long sleeves, and I can sit outside and swing or sit on a porch and just relax. I like the idea of swinging in a hammock or relaxing outside or sleeping under stars. I want to walk in the forest and relax in the hot tub. I want to splash in the breaking waves of the ocean and walk on the beach. I want to look for shells and sea glass. I want to find bits of moss and acorns and feathers and fossils. I want to make art. I want to surprise my friends with personal, thoughtful gifts. I want to sing. I want to make music. I want to make love. I want to laugh. I want to watch movies on a huge screen. I want to read amazing literature. I want to hear amazing speakers. I want to have my mind blown. I want to go to work and get my work done and then go home and not think about it. My work no longer gives a shit about me, so I don’t think I want to have my heart broken by my work. My day job is just a means to pay for living.
But I don’t need to buy things to buy happiness. I would rather save up to travel than to buy lots of toys and gadgets to “make” me “happy”. What the fuck ever.
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