Have you ever wanted to just give up?

Sometimes I really question myself. I put on my brave face and even fool myself for awhile, but then it resurfaces, that uncertainty. The child who often didn’t feel that connected with her peers. The girl who never really fit in. The woman who thought it’d be easier by now.

Why do I place such importance on the opinions of those who really don’t matter? Why can’t I revel in the love and appreciation I do have? We always want what we don’t have, don’t we? When I think about it, it’s silly, really. Wasting all this time and effort and heartbreak on the unimportant things. Expending so much energy worrying and forcing those closest to me to suffer the pouty moods. Why do I let it get to me so? Why can’t I stop caring?

I am worn, I am weary. I don’t want to trudge along like this. I used to be so happy; I used to be so carefree… and I wish I knew how to shake off the sadness and return to that place. So I write. I write and I write and I write. Then I read a little. And I sit and think until my brain protests. So I spill it all out as drafts of posts I may never share, or I put pen to paper and smell that intoxicating scent of ink. Maybe I can purge my mind that way. Maybe.

I just want to have fun again.