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it’s natural to be afraid

It’s not hard to be content with life. I am, believe it or not. Right now I can say with total honesty that there’s nothing I that I desperately want in life, be it in terms of material goods or whatever the opposite of that term is supposed to be. But I’m still not a happy camper. Life’s good, it is, but I’m not.

I don’t know why I can’t seem to just chill the fuck out and relax, to let go of things and stop endlessly thinking about them, to not make every day an uncomfortable experience. Being with friends (like today and yesterday) helps, but I’ll be honest, every time the conversation died down I would turn slightly moody and begin mulling over the things that I usually mull over: conflicting/muddled/confused emotions, self-doubt, a yearning for things I will never have, the negative bits of things that happen to me. Shit like that.

I always focus far too much on the negative side of things. I wish I didn’t, but I do. It’s a tough habit to break. I have never truly been able to sit down and look at the bright side of things, to say “everything’s nice, everything’s going to be alright” without sounding horribly fake. It’s not that there’s nothing to feel good about (although right now I can’t think of anything off the top of my head, just for the record), but I seem to like ignoring those things and focusing on the sucky bits. The bits that aren’t fun. The bits that keep me down and do me more harm than good.

in the fence

This photo reminds me of how most of my days pan out . . . of being in uncomfortable situations where you just can’t stop feeling uneasy. I wake up feeling uncomfortable and go to bed feeling uncomfortable, and spend most of my day feeling uncomfortable as well, regardless of whether I spend it alone of spend it with friends.

Seems like I’m uncomfortable with being myself, with being in my own skin, with my own thoughts and emotions. And I’m not exactly sure why that’s the case.

I’ve only ever felt comfortable in my own skin once in recent memory, and that was when I was hanging out at the Bau Bau Cafe, talking with one of their employees and playing the guitar. He didn’t know anything about me, I didn’t know anything about him, and it was all delightfully impersonal.

I don’t know why I felt comfortable then. Maybe it was the food, but I guess it was just nice and almost . . . comforting to be outside the house, hanging out someplace far away from Kelana Jaya, talking to someone who I’d never known before and who just decided, seemingly on a whim, to enter my life for a while. It was raining, too, and I guess that had a bit of an influence on my mood.

What I wouldn’t give to stop feeling like this. Dear God, what I wouldn’t give…

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