It's raining outside and i keep listening to music and trying to write everything that is inside. I keep questioning about myself, my place in the world. All the philosophical questions that have haunted human kind since...ever. Why do i like so many things but am not great at one of them, only average. Why do i always choose the hard road. Why don't i believe myself to be better. Why can i usually say what other people are thinking. Why don't i have my farytale. Why am i alive? Why am i who i am?
Of course i know most of these questions have a rational answer, but the meaning of it all is sometimes lost, and in fact no one can truly respond to my questions.
The rain keeps pouring and the seconds, minutes, hours pass by.
Tomorrow i will get up and it will be another day, but still...what is the point?
Sometimes i wonder how people perceive me, nice vs arrogant, dumb vs smart, lazy vs harworking. I have doubts about my capabilities and realise that i was not raised believe to be able to achieve whatever i wanted . The low expectations of my parents and their inability to dream big has left a mark deep in my ability to take chances, to risk it all. I can't, i'm to scare of things going wrong, of failing. I really am afraid to become homeless. I think it is one of my biggest fears. That and pain, physical pain, emotional pain, i dread it.
More than death itself, which is a bit hard to understand for some of the people that surround me. They fear death. I would rather not die simply to keep from breaking my parents heart. But i do not wish death, i simply do not fear it. They are of course two very different things.
Nevertheless i remain here listening to the rain, and the wind, and the music...and writing about the things that haunt me.