I’m sorry for not writing, I’ve allowed myself to be easily distracted. Right now I am immersing myself in all the red carpet extravagance of the Met Gala. This punk themed magic does wonders in elevating my psyche as well as rousing my creative dark side.
I suppose I’ve been trying to escape the infamous green eyed monster that has taken a firm hold of me. It’s a strong son of a bitch, relentless in reminding me of what could have been and what isn’t. I’ve needed to flood my mind with other things otherwise it would eat me alive. I’ve been inundated with copious reminders of how little my life appears to progress; thanks to Facebook I am engulfed with status’. Everyday someone get’s engaged, has a baby or is traveling to far away lands. I suppose I live vicariously in the latter, scrolling through their photographs, adding a new adventure to my ever growing wanderlust journal but it all just serves to further depress. It’s like being seated on the bleaches watching those below me on the field enjoying the game of life whilst I impatiently await for my turn to join in, or standing idly on the platform awaiting for my train to arrive and watching as those around me board incoming locomotives.
I’ve felt this way my entire life, watching from the sidelines hoping to get tagged into the game and as the years pass it’s beginning to more than frighten and frustrate me. It’s a game I just can’t seem to get involved with, overlooked for who knows what. Am I not popular enough? Smart? Beautiful? Thin?
What’s worse is aside from knowing that the sands of time are hastily dissipating away is having that constant reminder hovering around, constantly nagging, picking furiously away at the self confidence I continually work at building. I feel like the choices I’ve made, the path less traveled I decided to traipse on is what’s right for me, though as the days pass and I can not help but compare my race to others I wonder if any of it will ever come to pass for me.
Will I ever get to join in on this silly game called life?