Life Goes On. . .
History keeps being made, day in and day out, and life continues to go on (at least for now). I'm only twenty-one years old, I'm still writing my life story, my life experiences, living out my goals, and playing my life's part.
I don't know if I'll have someone to carry on my legacy, to write how my story ends, or to fill in the blanks that leave you guessing. My life is a mystery, no one knows why I do what I do or if they can even explain why I feel the need to keep doing it.
I've always been misunderstood even by the people who have or was supposed to know me best. It's hard to explain the last sentence but it's true. My mother and I have never been close because she could never get inside my brain (although she has tried), my husband wants me to confide my deepest thoughts and why I fail to see him as my counselour (but even he feels a disconnect), and the list just goes on. My mother and I have always had a mental disconnect and have always had the most difficult relationship because of her lack of interest. My husband and I are great together, we agree on a lot of topics, we have fun together, but when I say or do something that I feel, he finds a way to put ash on my fire or criticize it to make me feel wrong about myself.
I don't want to be a mystery, but I am. The only place that I can truly be myself is here because there are so many other people that fit into my world or my way of thinking. There just doesn't seem enough time in the world to explain who I am and why I am what I am or why I feel the way I do. Even here, I find that I am saving the best stories for last, and that they'll never be told or completed.
I feel that my stories won't be told or completed is because no one knows me, what I want, what I love, what I hate, why I love it or them, why I hate it, what I need, why I need it, etc. I just want to write my whole story, pour out my soul, have someone feel my emotions, have someone feel my soul, have someone overstand my being, and not be judged or questioned.