I’m feeling a little bit off, experiencing an amount of discomfort that’s neither overwhelming nor negligible, but just enough for it to be prevalent throughout the day. Irritated and irritable beyond reason. In constant search of motivation. Fighting against myself along every single step I take. Antsy and tired, restless and in desperate need of some comfort.
I’m anxious and indifferent. Calm and panicky. It feels as if an entire paradox-filled sea’s united within a single human shell. My human shell.
But I’m also excited. Happy, even. Looking forward to the small things − an unexpected sunbeam warming my face, a gorgeously coloured tree, a cup of coffee, a delicious meal, beautiful live music, an awesome song that makes me wanna skip like back when I was a little kid, wearing my favourite t-shirt, dancing around the apartment in my underwear (you should try it someday, it’s pretty uplifting).
Life’s so unbelievably amazing and heart-sinkingly frightening at the same time. I’m flying and I’m also drowning. It’s literally breathtaking. It’s exhausting and invigorating all at once. I never know what comes next. But then again, nobody does. We’re all riding the wave more or less successfully, doing our best to roll with the punches. Who defines success anyway?
Life’s good. And then it isn’t. And then it is again.