Everyday, I’m haunted by the same question. What are you doing with your life? What am I doing you ask? I honestly don’t know. I’m living. One day at a time, surviving, reminding my self to keep breathing. But besides that? I don’t really know. I take one step back and I see I have not achieved much. But then I come back into my shoes and realise, given the circumstances, lord, I’ve come so far. Thank you for that.
I waste my days and nights, in highs and lows in foreign places forcing myself to have fun, to laugh, to just live you know. But I don’t want to do this. What do I want to do you ask? I don’t know. I barely know myself, how can you expect me to know what I want to do with my life. For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be nothing but happy. In this pursuit of happiness, sometimes I’ve found happiness in little things like shoes or food. Now I hate both. Shoes sit at home unworn and food just adds more calories. And that’s a new struggle, struggling with my body and weight. And then there are the men who promised me the world and yet, left me feeling blue and grey.
I used to be such an easy girl to please. One joke and I’d laugh the whole night. I adored people who were kind. How did the world get so ugly. How did so much hate whisk in. What is happy? What is contentment? I don’t know and I’m dying to know.
She Was Sea 