Where do I go from here?

Sun. January 11th, 2015.

     Today feels sad and lonely. I am having a hard time finding fulfillment in photo editing. Too many hours on my computer starts to hurt my mind and my psyche. I don't know what to do to fill the void and I'm not sure how I can continue to photograph without committing myself to editing. It's like a constant buzzing, I'm becoming a robot. I took down the t.v. that was in front of my bed, blocking the window, it had always made me feel uneasy, but I'm starting to feel that it was without purpose if I have only replaced it with a smaller version. Nonetheless, at least I am able to open my blinds at full capacity again.

     I'm not living for myself. I know what to do, my mind shouts it: ride your bike, drive someplace real far, listen to music on blast, go to the open mic, take beautiful pictures, call up your friends, get out of bed, cook good food-or don't, write. The furthest that I get some days is the opposite end of my house. I make it here. I play my music loud, sometimes. Wtf is wrong with me? I think about switching it up. Drastically. Maybe I'll change it all, my hair, my name, get my passport and leave. I don't have the financial capital to do so. I thought that schooling would bring me to my life's calling. It has been 6 months since my last college course. I want to throw up at the thought. Finishing school was supposed to be the greatest accomplishment of my life thus far, a time of celebration, encouragement, fresh starts. You can be anything that you want to be. What do I want to be when I grow up? I'm still trying to figure it out... Happy? All I dream about is traveling. All I know that I want to do is explore. My dream of being a Photojournalist hasn't ceased, I just haven't done anything to pursue it professionally. Perhaps due to it being a competitive field, generally low paying and hard to break into.

     I got lost the other day, on the way to the Armstrong Redwood forest. In Tiburon, by the bay. I started a new Instagram page: 

CaliforniaWanderlust.

Love Atrophy

I'm not sure why but I hate myself.

Apparently I don't have enough love in my heart.
I didn't know that you could lose it, that love was something to be lost.
Is love like a muscle? You can gain muscle atrophy by not working out your love muscle.
I find myself becoming internally infuriated.
I feel my chest tighten and my teeth grit.
I have no fuse.
I lack patience and tolerance.
I do not know everything but yet I am so quick to assume that I know best.
I can have such empathy and yet not be able to show kindness.
I am sickened by myself but I do not know how to change.
Yesterday I was told that people often return to the temple in time of need, when they have gone as far as they can without it. I need salvation, refuge, a class in love.
But I laugh at your G-d. At your Jesus talk. I mock your spiritualism. But no one would know because I would defend G-d should you tell me that G-d does not exist. I have faith and hope.
I do not practice my love.
Or maybe I just wouldn't call it love. I do love. I feel love. I do feel.
I feel too much.
Am I feeling wrong?
I am heavy. All the time. I feel the weight of my body.
I am not necessarily self-conscious, yet I am conscious of myself.
Music, Reading, Blogging, Laying, Sitting, Walking, Driving, Cleaning, Making a mess, Microwave, Guilt, Analyzing, Watching, Staring, Thinking, Feeling.
"Am I of the state of talking," my mother asked me?
What a ridiculous question I thought. I laughed, "yes, I suppose," I responded.
However when I came to, I let it sink in. I am so difficult to deal with recently that you'd have to brace yourself to come around me. Ask, before you speak.
I hid in my closet the other day.
The only place in my house that is not inhabited by another.
If it was large enough I would clean it out and make it a regular habit.
I keep looking to the future to fix me.
When I have more money, more space, I will be fixed. I will be one with myself, again.
I used to love me.

Just like that, here I am, writing about my own internal struggle in this very moment and someone just came through my door that I had no expectation of seeing, that brought me more faith, joy and love than I would have imagined. Thank you. 

Lack of motivation.

Some days I just don't feel it. 

I have no desire to get out of bed. 

Not even to eat, get fresh air or pee. 

I just lay here, like a sloth, like a zombie. 

I reflect upon my actions, or lack thereof, searching for the answer to fill the void. 

It's not that I am like this everyday but it's hard not to notice the days that I am. 

Is this depression? 

My chest hurts.

But I'm happy. I believe that I am. 

I am content. 

Yes, I can 100% commit to contentment.

... 

What's next? 

I have not found IT. 

It. 

The force that makes you thrive, that gets you out of bed every morning, that makes you want to do better, be better. The reason for my purpose.

What is my purpose?

Sometimes I'll come across an opportunity and I'll take it, in desperate need of an objective, a project.

Give me something to DO, anything.

However, when you are the only one accountable for your actions it is easy to slack off, procrastinate, lay in bed, like a sloth, sitting, waiting for purpose to fall in your lap.

Girlfriend, opportunity doesn't come knocking unless you go out there and search for it. My self talk helps. 

Then I give up. On projects. You know, the ones I took just to do something, anything with my time.

Why?

Standards? Laziness?

I believe it's due to a lack of fulfillment.

I'd rather do nothing than something that doesn't fulfill me completely.

However, while I'm sitting, waiting, wishing that I'd find it, I'm probably missing out on all the things that will bring me to it. 

I suppose, here's to New Year's resolutions. To finding fulfillment and enjoying the journey along the way.