I wrote this to myself over the summer:

I haven’t written down what I’m feeling in a long time, and I’m not sure why. I used to do it a ton just because it helps clear my mind. To put things on paper and work the words out. I think I’ve just been moving so fast these past few years that I haven’t been able to stop and think. I guess my most overwhelming feeling is sadness, which isn’t unexpected as I don’t usually sit and write too much when I’m happy. So I guess I’m sad. And maybe this sad is for a few reasons. I’ve got a couple ideas. First being that things are changing, and I hate change. As much as I would love to think, “ I need things to always be different because I can’t sit still,” or whatever, I like the comfort of knowing what’s ahead of me. And right now, I don’t. I’m scared of something I don’t even know is worth being afraid of. I’m scared of being sad, sadder than I am now. I’m scared of never being as happy as the last time I was happiest. I’m afraid of the kind of change where things get worse instead of better. I’m scared I won’t get what I so desperately want. I’m scared I won’t heal from my past and I’m scared that I’ll become someone I won’t like. I’m afraid that I don’t know what I’m doing or where I’m going and how I’ll get there. I’m afraid of failure, losing, and letting people down — I’m afraid of letting myself down. I don’t know if I’ll become the person I want to be, or worse — do all of this work and make all of the sacrifices to get what I want only to realize its not what I want at all. I’m afraid of letting go of the people that make me happiest because I can’t decipher my pain. And I’m afraid of that same pain becoming a shadow of everything I do for the rest of my life. I’m afraid that being sad will ruin every good thing I have. I’m scared that I will never get out of my head and that frankly, things will suck forever and ever and ever. I hope they don’t. But it’s weird because of all my eighteen years of life I feel like I’ve done nothing but travel down this winding path of things I don’t want, or things I thought I wanted but don’t really make a difference regardless. I’m not quite sure that any of this makes any sense and probably wont write down my thoughts again for a long while.

This was the last thing I wrote, for me, until this moment. Am I more this person now, here in this place? Or by writing this, have I reached some resolve? I don’t know.

Robot @ nyu