I have been lost since I can remember. I don´t know who I am or who I want to be.
But I know I want to be more.
It has been a long life until now. 20 years in this absurd quest into figuring out my own identity, my voice while holding up the weight of the world in my shoulders.
I like to write because it comes from inside, some people meditate but I write. The words come out so easily when I am in the right moment in cosmos.
It is like the whole world goes black and I only see my keyboard. I don´t know why I am writing I don´t even know if my words make sense but at least I do have an inside into my own quiet me.
A long time ago I knew me, I knew who I was and at that moment in time I thought the world would never conquer me, it would never dissolve my beliefs. After so long I don´t how it happened but it did.
I am a writer. I feel things differently and I think differently. I don´t live lightly.
I would love to reassess my own brain and rewind all of the lost time that I wasted looking for someone else while I was the right person.
Now I sit in this distant country alone and thinking: “what can I do to be better?”
I live in the past-moment in time where I fast-forward the good and I slowdown in the bad.
I don´t know myself in my role of girlfriend or as a friend and I ask my God we did we allowed me to get so far away from myself.
I am not a sad person. I am not negative. I am not mentally ill.
My family is afraid or me being sad all the time, my boyfriend is afraid of me being constantly lost in my mind.
I don´t know want to write or why I write. I just do. For myself mostly.
Why is it so hard to be? Not try to be, just be.
I am insecure and I am a 20 years-old woman. And this is a personal story about my journey to become me. And to figure it out life.
I hope I can show humour and shock you, but more important is to find me through this experience.
This is day 1 of 50 days of A 20-old-woman insecurities.