I spiralled down a time slice of reading old blog posts over stale tea, and while it sounds enjoyable, it has been anything but. I remember being driven and motivated a couple of years ago, and I keenly remember the way that felt. It felt like I was in control and capable, and no longer a victim of my own strange need for self-destruction. That was a person coming out of a three-year-long lapse of judgement (it was, and may forever be, a splotch on the cover of the story of my life).
But I am not dumb enough to ignore the fact that things could be way worse than they are now. I have a lot to be thankful for – I am not a drone, and I have reasons for wanting success (my version of it, at least). And a lesson an episode of Rick and Morty taught me to not wish for things to be otherwise – ‘things just are’.
Also, also, past me had something to say to current me.
“i keep getting this sort of strange buzz in my stomach every time it is i find myself thinking about a good future. good being a future in which id be surrounded by love doing something i am, too, in love with. i think that feeling could possibly be what drive is made of. i now want to organise things/be organised and i also want to do things like go to school, even if the environment might disappoint me more than the last, just because i would be moving a step, even if tiny/insignificant, forward into somewhere.
i think being somewhere would be nice. wanting things for yourself is nice too. we get born and then we get told, as soon as we know that words mean things, that dreaming is dumb because dreams dont come true in a world like ours. its like fear is a prerequisite to leading normal lives because fear says dont step on that ledge or dont place that toaster too close to that bathtub. some fear is great, sure. but a lot of fear is just a way of saying, hey, everythings a lot easier when i keep the everything small. that definitely is true. but everything also means a lot less than it could. and.. meaning’s all that matters, i think.
I haven’t been as motivated as old me, but crying into stale tea could turn things around.
By the way, I’m the worm. So, yes, it was in that order. I was lying the first time. I’m sorry.