Let me be anyone but the person I have become

In the past two days, I've aged a lifetime... or at least, I've thought enough to fill a philosopher's head for a lifetime. That being said, I have a lot of things I need to get out there. This is going to be 100% me. No pretenses. No mask. It'll probably seem sort of stream-of consciousness, but I'm going to do my best to stay centered around a theme.

I am struggling. I'm struggling with a heart full of shattered dreams and broken aspirations. I am stifled. I'm stuck where I am and there doesn't seem to be a way of escape anywhere I look. I want adventure... There is nothing more that my soul craves right now than adventure. And art. And love. But art and love are adventures in themselves!

I WANT A LIFE OF CREATIVITY. To paraphrase something a friend told me once, if I don't do something creative RIGHT NOW, I'm going to go crazy. I need to put myself out there in some form. I need pieces of me to come out instead of being stuck in this skin with no one to listen but heart. My heart has had enough. My heart is exhausted and needs someone else to listen. I can't get out my creativity where I am. This dead end town and house full of discord is suffocating my spirit. Any type of creating I could think to do, I can't do here. I want to WRITE! I want to PAINT! I want to play MUSIC as LOUD as it can GO! But that won't happen here. I am stuck.

I need to go somewhere. Anywhere. I need to be a dandelion seed that floats on the wind until I find a new place to grow. I want to jump out of this skin and run as far and as fast as I can. I don't care where, just SOMEWHERE. Somewhere that has new experiences waiting, no strings attached. Somewhere where I can get over my stupid insecurities and just BE. This somewhere is anywhere else but here.

Realistically let's look at this. I am nobody. I'm never going to be that bohemian girl at the indie festival who seems to know everyone and knows exactly who she is. I won't be that girl at the coffee shop living her extravagant and awesome life as the curator of an art gallery. I won't be anyone but a nobody with the soul of an artist. I couldn't afford to live the life that I'd want, anyway. I would make friends with lots of hobos if I pursued my dreams.

Not to mention the hearts that would break if I struck out and blazed my own trail. My life is planned. There are a few choices I have... like where to go to grad school. The worst part about it is that I built my own cage and now I'm locked in it. My parents didn't put me here (though my dad has a cage waiting for me in case I bust out of my own and he can catch me with his), my relatives, school, and friends... none of them put me here. I hand-made this cage of formerly blinding passion, neurosis, and unachievable standards. I waltzed into it with a smile on my face and a laugh on my tongue. After it latched behind me, I took the one key to it and chucked it through the bars thinking I would be happy in my cage forever. Now I'm sitting in my cage, I'm alone and starving.

These thoughts reek of discontentment, lust for an impossible life, and bitterness toward myself for feeling this way. THIS IS MY MOST UPSETTING STRUGGLE. My faith rests so much on contentment. Should I wear a mask and look like everything is exactly how I'd like it to be? "But then," you maybe thinking, "is it not true that you believe that someone must endure struggles to grow? That God knows what He's doing and knows exactly who you are to become?" Yes. These are truths of what I believe. Great is His faithfulness to me everyday. This is not a cry of "my life is so unfair". I am taken aback by the incredible blessings I've received every day for 20 years, 1 month, and 2 weeks. What I'm saying is... I wish I hadn't have locked myself in this cage. God didn't do this to me, I did.

I can blame this house and town until I'm blue in the face, but even if I did up and leave to go somewhere else, I would still be there and that's where the problem lies.

I'll never be a writer like Jesse.
I'll never be an artist like my mother.
I can't make music like A Minor Bird.
I'll never be able to review music and extract its depth like Nick.
What I will be is a nobody with a withering spirit and shoulders full of shame.

These words are the product of reflection. I said that this is 100% me, but I am also 100% the opposite of this. It has been like standing on the outside of a house, looking in through a window at the thoughts and desires of another person. The problem is, I don't know which me is the one on the inside and which is the one on the outside... or which one I prefer to be, for that matter. If you know me, you know that I am not self-centered, defensive, or shaken. Clearly I am all of those things.

There are two questions that have repeated in my mind since the catalyst that started my thinking... What am I doing? and What's the point? When I try to answer the questions, my heart begins to ache. I thought I knew the answers to these questions, but now I have no idea.