Most of the time I am happy to be different, in fact I play on it, I use it. It’s something that works well for me. I think I would probably describe myself with the following words:
I’ve always wondered what other people would say about me. What do my friends think about me? You know those chain facebook satus’ where you ask people to put how they first met you/what they thought when they first met you/why you’re their friend? I’ve always wanted to put one as my facebook status, but I’m always afraid no-one will actually bother to reply. I know I have friends, but sometimes it feels like I’m alone. So here is another word to add to that list. Alone.
I know it’s stupid. I’m not really alone. I have friends and family, but sometimes I just find myself curled up in a corner of my room, crying uncontrollably. Sometimes I feel like I don’t fit it, there is something missing and I don’t know what it is. Maybe I need to find a purpose, a reason to be. Everyone around me seems to have always had in their head this idea of who or what they wanted to be. Me on the other hand? Not once, when I was a child, did I ever say ‘I want to be … when I grow up’. Not even once! I have never, in my life, had an actual reason to be living. I have just lived. I go from random idea, to random idea. There is no rhyme or reason, I just wake up one day and decide ‘I’m going to do this’.
This blog post is leading somewhere I am sure, I just don’t know where yet. I suppose that fits well with my life. I recently find myself desperate to do something for other people. To volunteer at a soup kitchen. I always give any change I have to those homeless people I happen to see and pass by, or sometimes I buy them a hot chocolate from Starbucks. I just can not stand to see all those people walking by, ignoring that person sitting there, blatantly really cold and depressed. I don’t have the heart to not do something, anything. Not that I can do much, I’m not exactly rolling in it myself, but I just have this deep desire to at least try.