angst

My goodness. I’ve been blogging so often in the past week that I’m kinda worried for myself. On one hand, I’m appreciative of this platform whereby I have no scruples about baring my innermost thoughts, but on the other hand.. Why do I feel so often compelled to write? Previously, only things especially moving or life-altering evoked enough sentiment for me to get through a post.

Am I just being overly dramatic about everything? I thought about it briefly, of course. Finally, I decided that I’ve entered the peak of teenager-hood. I can’t help feeling pushed around by things I’m discovering of the world.

How do I feel about all this enlightenment? Enthrallment? Trepidation? Anticipation? Melancholy? Perhaps a mixture of all. I thirst for more knowledge (deemed irrelevant by many), and it can sometimes be a distraction.

I consider it one(two) of my idiosyncrasies to have such a vivid imagination and a burning curiosity. Though perhaps I am far from eccentric like I somewhat want to be. It may have helped me on my journey, though, and I don’t hate it.

Who knew that growing up would be so complicated anyway? I sure didn’t.

But here I am, so as for now, I’ll take it head-on.

One day, I’ll look back at this and laugh at myself, like I do every year, when I decide to reflect.

Can’t wait.