Fall is just about gone. Everything is dead or dying, and when someone comes in from outside you can smell the cold on them.
So, now is the winter of our discontent.
Things have been very strange, as of late. I'm working on a restructuring, and while I think it'll be good in the long run, right now I'm feeling pretty terrible.
See, there used to be this place where I was always happy, and then that place outgrew me [or I outgrew it?]. And now I have a gaping absence where once was a loving presence, and oh how it aches.
This is a challenging time, you guys. In a few weeks, I'm going to graduate. And while I'm very much looking forward to living a more self-designed life, I'm also filled with trepidation. My confidence in my ability to handle people is waning, and my gosh - do you realize how big the world is?
Also, I sometimes joke about existential crises. I'm not really having one, but I am having something that might grow up to be an existential crisis. Over the last month or so, I have been mistaken for another person again, and again, and again. I'm tired of it. I know that I am being emotional and overly sensitive at the moment, but if it happens again I might break down and start weeping uncontrollably.
I know. I should be an adult. I should shrug off these repeated cases of mistaken identity. But, really, my own identity is the only thing I have that is ultimately preservable - the choices I make, the things I think, and the way I act. And when the Other takes that from me - writes me off as someone I have never been and will never be - I am terrified and angry. I know it isn't done intentionally, but I'm past the point of caring. It was funny the first five times. Now I'm questioning the fundamentals of my own personhood. And I hate it more than I can even put into words.
I. I. I.
I'm afraid to gaze too long into the abyss, you know?
Because, I mean, I'm still here.