To Be.

There exists an ache in me, an urge to define my existence; to find the totality of my being and to embody that being perfectly every single day until the day I die. And when I die,to have a crowd of mourners around my grave saying anything along the lines of, “The world has lost a talented soul”, or whatever. It’s such an exhausting feeling to have, to constantly confine the worthiness of my own existence to what others see as valuable. 

An interesting dichotomy exists within me, I wanna be creative and true to myself, uncaring of how others perceive me, and yet it is for this same crowd that I seek approval from. I work hard to “meet my own expectations”, and yet I don’t even know who set these expectations for me. Did I, or did I allow others to finally consume all of my thoughts?

Being a human is exhausting.