Nothing but worries
I am worried about everything. Mostly death or drama. When is my time to go? And if that is tomorrow did I do everything I wanted to? Did I do everything right? Did I leave anyone behind being disappointment in me? Did I become big enough to leave something behind? I trust on myself to make the best choice of two possibilities but then after I am always worried if there wasn’t a third one that was better. If I have the feeling that I have failed or somebody confirmed to me that I failed, I have the feeling I’m exposed, I guess I could no longer hide it. I don’t see a man when I look in the mirror I see an individual.. a person not a personality. I think about it a lot, how it would have been if I looked different. More eccentric, more beautiful, perfect. I often feel less fortunete. I don’t have the look that I think would have helped me to become a personality. Every time I convince myself that I am a personality seconds later I’m convinced that it could be nothing more than my problem solving characteristic that comes with my chaos. It isn’t special being able to help out with the glue when you are also the one who broke it. Who or what am I anyway? Compared to one out of ten I would probably be last, one out of hundred and I would be nothing but small and compared to one out of a billion I would probably be nothing but nothing. I don’t even have the feeling I can be big in my own little world with friends and family because I have nothing to offer. Even though they might say that I am special it doesn’t mean I can actually feel useful as a human being. A handmade vase out of mosaic can be very special but it still doesn’t mean it doesn’t leak when you water the plants. I offered myself as somebodies best friend quiet a few times in my life yet almost none of them were interested. Then when I think I have so much to offer that you don’t want to miss I think again. I don’t want Me to be more important than you, but I would love too if We were more important than our own individual. But I guess the world is just too big and in the end why do you want to get stuck with me? Everything I try to get a hold on makes me lose my grip. It makes me feel so different. I come alone, I go alone and I will probably be remembered alone. Sometimes I just feel like a liquid or air or another thin transparent substance. In the end it leads me here. Where? I don’t know because I feel nothing but lost wondering if this is really what I see.