Lockdown Scribblings

I’m feeling the pressure of getting somewhere fast. I’m doing it again—that thing I do where I automatically think about the destination and not the journey. I’m trying to undo the conditioning I’ve experienced over the last 30 years of my life. I’m trying to remind myself to slow down; that having a day where I’m unable to push forward is okay—especially at a time like this. To check in on myself on a regular basis—I need to check in, and that’s okay.

I do this thing where I have that lightbulb moment, and then nothing else matters. I’m a person on a mission and no one can stop me. No one can stop me, but the thoughts might; and the idea that I might need to be someone that I’m not for a short period of time might too. Sometimes I’m able to detach from my true identity—an identity that I’m still trying to wrap my head around—and become the person that I’m supposed to be in order to get where I think I need to go. Then something happens, and I have that moment of checking in on myself where I question why I’ve done what I’ve just done; why I’ve gone against the true nature of my spirit in the hopes of reaching for outward affection.

I have this internal pressure; this internal pressure to be liked by people that I don’t even know. To live up to this reputation that was set upon me by people outside of myself. And when I feel as though I’m not liked; when I can’t justify that, it hurts me. I tell myself that I shouldn’t care. I tell myself that other peoples opinions of me shouldn’t matter. But sometimes they do.

I just want to succeed. I just want to be liked.