Writing seems like a strange exercise in ego and attempts to distill experience into a small, controlled series of attention and the concept of writing, at least personally, seems partly foolish and somewhat unhealthy. Almost as if that by unintentionally repeating the same beliefs and ideas, one accidentally traps oneself into a repetition of behavioral patterns, and unwittingly promulgated by others and ultimately the self.
A lot has been, and is changing in my life, and it almost seems paramount to me to maintain a level of privacy and aloneness to properly develop myself. Maybe this is somewhat universal, but there is such a heavy component to be jammed into molds early in my life that it might have become its own pattern with me, think the abnegation of self was properly the first concept I was introduced to, and was absolutely, if somewhat unintentionally, taught to believe there was something inherently wrong with what my being is at the core. Sort of had to develop a strong component of people-pleasing and willingness to perform that it became a deep and somewhat unhealthy component in my relationships, feel like I’ve been in relationships with higher than normal levels of mutual dependency.
So, here I am, 30, female, and generally happiest alone, and dislike having to exist for others, which is a strange concept to explain, possibly.
But words at some point become deeply inorganic and divorced from whatever objective reality is, objectively, and writing at this point seems like the best way to further slam myself into ingrained patterns, and something about writing seems like a blend of ego, procrastination and writing on subjects with incomplete knowledge that haven’t concluded yet…
Life just seems like a very complex balancing act at the moment.