Stuck in limbo

I am a girl full of contradictions.

Fiercely independent, yet I still live with my parents.

Getting my first gray hairs, but I also still have pimples.

Craving for love, yet always afraid to make the first move.

A dreamer, but one that worries all the time.

Spontaneous, and at the same time overanalyzing everything. Especially -what else?- relationships with boys.

Dreaming of intimacy, fearing the intimacy of intimacy. Fear of the unknown I guess. Fear of my flaws; spread out and naked, asking for acceptance and love.

This is me. And I’m stuck in limbo.

I want to save the world, but I’m starving trying. Have tried to find a job in the save-the-world-business for three years. Never found a job for more than 5 months. Hence the living with the parents. I want to do a job that is useful, to me and others, but without being exhausted. I find that working is exhausting. There is no balance, no energy left to live besides work. This is not right. And I’m sick of hearing myself saying it. I’m sick of being tired all the time. I crave for creativity and energy. Making something. Making something nice. Isn’t that also saving the world? Creating your own little place of beauty?

I’m sick of, more and more, becoming critical of society. I’m sick of knowing about all the suffering in the world and feeling responsible for it and guilty, without really being able to change something. I’m sick of feeling like, professionally, I’m not good enough.

I’m sick of wanting to go somewhere, away, but never knowing where.

I am tired of looking for my goal in life, and feeling like I’m not moving forward. I feel like I’m not moving forward. 27 and living with my parents. 27 without money saved. 27 with dreams, but vague ones, maybe for lack of courage, maybe because of stuff beyond my control.

I am so very aware of everything. The great gift of life; not wanting to fuck it up; not knowing how to not fuck it up. Tick tock.

Knowing that there’s a lot that I don’t want, but at the same time constantly questioning myself.

I know there’s no such thing as certainty in life, but I would like to feel some peace. I would like to know which risks I should take. With jobs. With boys.

I am confused about boys. I like them, have liked them all my life. Never really grasped how they feel about me though. ‘Cause they don’t tell me and I can’t see or feel it. And then, lots of boys that I like, have a nice, beautiful girlfriend. So things remain Unspoken. At least on my part. Because otherwise, it becomes serious. If I tell a boy I like him, and he’s in a committed relationship, does this mean that I should know that I want a serious relationship with him before daring to tell him that I like him? And when are you ever sure how much you like someone, if there’s only so much you are allowed to share? Some laughs, some thoughts. A look, a touch?

It never goes to the next level. I’m stuck. Is it all because I’m not courageous enough? Is it me?

I don’t know why I’m afraid of intimacy. The experience I’ve had with it, has been very nice. Nicer than I imagined before. Fear of choosing, is that it? But if I don’t choose, I have nothing.

And what, or who, can I actually choose? I hate non-communication, but I’m not really saying anything myself. I’m sick of it. Of guessing. Of analyzing words and gestures. Of the Unsaid between me and the beautiful boys.

And of course it’s plural. And of course it’s a grey area with all of them, precisely because I like them. Makes it even easier to assess the situation.

And I’m afraid of losing myself.

I want to be brave; I know it’s always worth it. But I don’t know how. I feel very alone, yet I like being able to do things on my own. Independent, remember? But I also want to let someone in, really let someone in, and trust that I will be fine. Maybe even great. And for sure not worse off than now.

But how do you know? A few months ago, the person I was most likely to confess to that I had feelings for him, is not necessarily the one I would confess my love to today. The one I have confessed to has only given me silence in return. I am never really sure what to do with silence. It’s not my style. And of course, there is the possibility that they do know, and choose to ignore it.

Turns out, I am afraid. And I will always have excuses not to act. The girlfriends. Respect for the relationship. Uncertainty.

Uncertainty.

I just don’t know.

I am sick of waiting.

Waiting for Godot. Waiting for myself. Waiting for someone else to be brave for me. I want to move, out of the forest, into the field, filled with wild flowers.

I want to feel beautiful again, feel that what he sees when he looks at me, is something beautiful.

(2014)