What does it mean when, at 22, no desire exists to go out for drinks or join the party; When the thought of going to the bar is appealing until the moment arrives and suddenly, going home seems to be the most beautiful thing that could possible exists on your agenda?
-Depression? is that not what people typically diagnose excessive introverts with?
-Been there, done that? But, at 22, how often is it that one has partied so much as to possess no desire to do so anymore.
-Desire for something more. If this was an answer, would it not be more common? Instead of every single person in one’s life (with similar age ranges) finding joy in the night life, would there not be those who also don’t want to go out, other than oneself?
Every time I go out, I love the people I’m with but I cannot help but to think about what I could be doing with my time. It’s true, we all need to relax. I only long for moments when I am relaxing as I am working towards my success. I can no longer force myself into believing that being out is contributing to my well being in any manner. Friends make it sound so enticing to go out and blow money and time and will proceed to somehow make you feel guilty for not doing so. well, maybe THEY don’t have things that they would rather be doing. At one point and a rather long span of my life, I didn’t either. Now, in this moment, I am so incredibly afraid that my future will not be every last thing that I anticipate it being, I can’t join the party. It’s not a sacrifice, either. I don’t miss it. There’s no, “I wish I were there.” I may not accomplish all that I wish to when I choose to stay home. I may not exercise, write, read, learn or paint each time I skip out on a night at the bar. Nonetheless, it’s hard to believe that I am not doing more for my well being than spending money on a buzz I’ll hardly remember.
I suppose I found my answer. I cannot allow myself to feel guilt from skipping the party, any longer. I’ll buy ya a birthday card.
My brain. So hard to tame, that animal.It’s like a record player that skips and skips, regardless of the youth of the record playing. Better yet, it’s like my record player that also played tapes and cds– each function operates to a decent extent but none perfectly. Lyrics, or thoughts, difficult to decipher completely.
Can we all truly follow our desires and get to where we wanna be? I seem to be attempting to do so but progress is out of sight for a long long time. Regardless of whether or not intended things are gained from what I’ve done, I’ve got balls to be in my situation; and I can live with that.
I’m at the beginning of my fourth year in college with a recently change of major; philosophy, one of those “risk-taking” majors– you know, the humanities. I’m holding little-known, much less spoken-of, dreams. I just wanna do some amazing shit, become relatively well off and change lives– that of which 90% of my generation believes they have potential to do. From time to time my mind convinces itself that I could create an award winning novel if I were to try, regardless of how much I haven’t written. My conscious has a habit of eating at me about not doing what I feel. To which I reply; “write? you want me to write? okay, I’ll just slip some time in for that after going to class, work, doing homework and attempting to get five hours of sleep each night.” “Oh you have time for me,” she replies. I assure her that I will soon put (finding somewhere to wash the two loads of laundry in my car, attempting to live of of the bare minimal, studying as much as my brain will allow me, the shit-show of a social life I have, dodging the bug bites and creepy occurrences in my house) all of my mortal responsibilities on the back burner so I can write shit that may never even be finished, much less read.I don’t even care to read anything that my mind produced, but I know that writing will help me function better in general. So maybe I should focus less on long term success and more on day-to-day success. Maybe it’s the same thing. Maybe..