A Spew Of Emotions While Sipping Tea
It is 1:30 am on August 1st, and I am alone in my bedroom listening to "Treacherous" while going through my songbook, picking songs to save for future uses in future opportunities in future dreams in future times. One day, it might be 1:30 am on another year's August 1st, and I'll be in a happier state. Or even just a more accomplished, more satisfied state.
I can usually tell what I'm feeling just by listening to my gut, but I have found out that my gut is a dirty liar who likes to change its mind with every cup of tea I go through. I drink a lot of tea.
I like to lie to myself to make myself feel more satisfied and okay, when I'm always terrified. I'm terrified of making the wrong life decisions. I sit awake at 1:30 am during the summer writing about my feelings, asking myself, "If I had called him during (insert time in the past/blurred memory) would he have changed his mind? Would we still be together?" or "What if I choose to be a(n) (insert career), but it doesn't work out and I end up homeless and alone and a failure?" Then my mind shifts into thoughts of, "It doesn't matter, I'll find someone better!" and "Ed Sheeran lived on friend's couches for years, I'll be fine!" Then I go to bed, only to visit the same cycle the next night.
Then I wonder if anyone else is or has been this terrified all the time. "Are these just my own paranoid thoughts or should I rethink my choices and life?" Which then causes me to change my mind, again, after feeling like I had just settled on what made me the happiest. Then I question happiness. I question everything too much. I'd like to be one of those people who knows exactly what they want, who makes them happy, what makes them happy, who lay down at night and know that tomorrow will be a garden of satisfaction and safety, no matter what occurs. Then I doubt there is anyone like that.
I wish I could move to Boston and throw myself into the music community without fear. I wish I felt as though my songs are good enough to succeed, that I won't find myself crawling back to everyone who doubts me with surrender written all over my face and heart. I wish I felt beautiful, so I would not have to take every romantic error in shame, spending the following weeks rebuilding an esteem. I wish I felt good enough to follow my heart, so that my gut would not change its mind with every day that passes, counting down the days until I am forced to make the wrong choice.