Living through words is a dangerous thing. Almost as dangerous as being completely honest with yourself.
I sometimes (often) think that I'm the only person in my life who's ever truly honest with me. I don't know if this is because I surround myself with people who don't know how to be honest with me, or because I just don't allow them to be.
Either way, it's alienating. In the truest sense of the word. I feel like I know what people are really saying, even as the words that come out of their mouths say something different. And I don't think I'm wrong about what they're thinking and feeling, because their bodies and their eyes say something completely different from their mouths. It makes me feel like a teenager, to be so confused by conflicting signals from other human beings.
Anyways.
Realizing that you are full of words, and empty of deeds, is infuriating. And frightening. I feel old and useless and pathetic, all because I have no tangible evidence of the wonderful stories I've told myself for years.
I'm not feeling sorry for myself, really. I'm angry. I refuse to feel this way anymore, but I lack the background of action to provide impetus and momentum for change. So I welter in confused anger, trying to take comfort in words that have less and less comfort to give.
I wonder where to start, where to find the ability to take action. I did it once, sideways, with plenty of little cheats in place to provide safety. And then I did it again, after far too long thinking about it, letting something die and rot before pointing out the obvious.
I don't want to do that anymore. I want to confront change head on, to take action by moving forward fearlessly. And I have no platform to spring off from, built of knowledge and previous action. It's not an excuse for my own lack of action. It's just something I need to acknowledge, so I can figure out how to build that platform with the resources I have.
I sometimes (often) think that I'm the only person in my life who's ever truly honest with me. I don't know if this is because I surround myself with people who don't know how to be honest with me, or because I just don't allow them to be.
Either way, it's alienating. In the truest sense of the word. I feel like I know what people are really saying, even as the words that come out of their mouths say something different. And I don't think I'm wrong about what they're thinking and feeling, because their bodies and their eyes say something completely different from their mouths. It makes me feel like a teenager, to be so confused by conflicting signals from other human beings.
Anyways.
Realizing that you are full of words, and empty of deeds, is infuriating. And frightening. I feel old and useless and pathetic, all because I have no tangible evidence of the wonderful stories I've told myself for years.
I'm not feeling sorry for myself, really. I'm angry. I refuse to feel this way anymore, but I lack the background of action to provide impetus and momentum for change. So I welter in confused anger, trying to take comfort in words that have less and less comfort to give.
I wonder where to start, where to find the ability to take action. I did it once, sideways, with plenty of little cheats in place to provide safety. And then I did it again, after far too long thinking about it, letting something die and rot before pointing out the obvious.
I don't want to do that anymore. I want to confront change head on, to take action by moving forward fearlessly. And I have no platform to spring off from, built of knowledge and previous action. It's not an excuse for my own lack of action. It's just something I need to acknowledge, so I can figure out how to build that platform with the resources I have.
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