The sudden thoughts of failing before even starting. The unclear image of the future. The part where everything that you do eventually crumbles down. And feeling alone through it all. These thoughts makes you lie down and curl up on the bed, trying to pull what’s inside your chest while your swollen eyes can’t tear up anymore.
Have you ever felt so fucking sad that your heart feels like it’s going to explode any moment?
It’s been quite a while I know. This is my first post for this year. Life has been quite overwhelming the last few months. I got a job then left 6 months after to start a business. I have this path but I keep taking turns to see more of what’s out there. I feel lost but I’m quite enjoying the adventure. Life has been hard, problems arise especially when you have a lot of time to spare. I kept imagining and thinking of how to meet expectations. I’m getting older and I’m not even on half of the things that I wanted to achieve. I know life is not a race but often times I kept wondering of why I’m not moving even though I’m already running. There were times when the thought of giving up creeps into my mind but I’m glad that the thought of pursuing my goals is greater.
My Gigantic Thought Bubble has been inactive for quite some time now because my mind found its way to filter the negative thoughts in a healthier way. I started this blog for the sole purpose of having an outlet. Lately, the thoughts has been manageable to deal with and writing has been my friend for such a long time especially when things were not okay but right now things are okay. And also, I found a way to be more open of how I feel with the people around me. As cliche as it may sound it’s true when they say that “it gets better” but challenges are always going to show up and test you.
I’m returning to my writing habit… again lol. We’ll see from here. See you around.
Colors leaking outside of me, a once active imagination now unable to see and create tales as lively as before, I now live inside a dying world with a dried up source never knowing when it will replenish or should I just accept that soon every story inside of me will somehow perish?