To say that I have never loved is a lie. I have loved, and been loved in return. The problem with that is that it was all quite tangled up in lies and misunderstandings. I wish I could make legitimate sense of the whole ordeal, or even the ordeal I am currently finding myself involved in, at least internally. My brain seems to be wandering back to a simpler time. I was comfortable, I was happy, but it was strained due to immense distance. Clearly I have more options available to me now, and yet my mind wanders back. I don't particularly want it to and yet I seem to have no control of it. To be perfectly honest I don't really know what I want right now. There is so much else to experience and overcome at this point in my life. College is starting, my class starts on Monday and I have to focus hard and prove-- if only to myself-- that I ought to be here in the first place. The question of whether or not I belong here has not arisen out of lack of esteem, I am perfectly content in myself. It is more a matter of having spent the past four years vying for this place and to be here is overwhelmingly terrifying.
My own terror in this new situation is most likely part of why I am seeking comfort currently, despite the source of such being questionable at this juncture. I am so unsure of my footing in other relationships. It's daunting to build new foundations, especially when I crave reassurance now. So I sit in the library, leafing through Michelangelo books, studying form, wondering just why I am here and being utterly terrified. I know for certain I am not that calibre of an artist, if that calibre of anything at all. That daunts me. Life in general is daunting me now. I will make it through, but I need to start making decisions, which I can only hope will have positive outcomes.