Questions

The pen barely touched the paper when the world changed. Just like Alice chasing a rabbit and falling into the unknown. I dropped my pen and have been in free fall. I’m not sure what is waiting or why it is making me anxious. I can feel it stirring though the knots in my stomach getting tighter with each passing moment and worry growing even stronger as I wait to land. I wish the fall was more like floating instead of feeling like a never ending rush of air getting faster and faster as you move towards what feels like impending doom. Is it though or is the start or end of something? I’m never really sure. These thoughts plaque me most the time.

There are the other thoughts as well. Why? Seems like such a simple question but in reality it is one of the most weighted questions in history. It can bring forth various answers but which answer is right. I suppose it depends on your why. Why did I wear my flats instead of my sandals? The answer is easy it was raining. Why do we fall in and out of love all the time? Regardless of the person that one is more complicated. The easy answer is people change and grow sometimes with one another and sometimes apart. Then you have to decide if it’s something worth fighting for or wiping your hands clean. Why are people cruel? Why is life hard? Why does it feel like I’m in an endless cycle? Why can’t an orange be genetically modified to be inside of an apple? Why do our minds tear us down from the inside? Why do we all react to music differently? Why, Why, Why. My mind a forever battlefield making it’s goal to try and unravel some great mystery hidden within a daydream.

Even around people I often feel alone. I know I write that a lot in here and in my journals. But my soul cries and feels so misunderstood. For years I stood quietly letting it just softly rapt at the door no wanting to ponder the questions of loneliness. Yet here we are the crossroads of my mind. All of lifes big questions roaming my head. Finding myself with even less an answer regardless of how many books I read or people I observe. Maybe that’s the point? That there are questions we just can’t answer, that they have to answer themselves or reveal themselves in their own time. We just are left to ponder in free moments in the wilds of our own realities.