time, reality, and myself.

Lately I've been feeling pressed for time. By that I don't mean I'm busy or there aren't enough hours in the day. It's not like that. I sit here, twenty minutes before I need to go to bed, and find this intrinsic wish that I could have more time to be awake- more time to think and to try and do things or at least think about the things I enjoy. It's the feeling that I am near the end of my life and there is a limited amount of time left- the kind of limit that you feel in a deep place.

In all honesty, I've been thinking about time a lot lately- both the waste of it and the amount of it we have. I've been thinking about what's outside of us, beyond us, what comes after this. It's just been on my mind. I don't feel an urgency, exactly, but just the reality that there is a certain amount of time that I am given- and I am feeling the restriction. I'm realizing that I will never feel like there is enough time to do or become what I want. It will always feel like this- like there will never be enough present time to breathe.

I feel it pressing in on me like dense humidity- covering me and packing me in tighter with its pressure, and quite honestly- making me uncomfortable and sweaty.

And on a semi-related note: I am unfulfilled. Becoming more unfulfilled with each day, I think. Increasingly dissatisfied by me and life, and time as I said before. The deeper I sink the less time I feel there is left. And I'm frustrated that I go back and forth. That at the end of the day I don't really know exactly what I believe. But I think the fact that it bothers me so much must mean that it matters- that it is important.

And most days, I feel like a hypocrite; I feel like a hollow tree with rings of knowledge and sturdy fact-bark on the outside, but with a gaping hole in the middle where it's supposed to matter and mean something and become real. And I'm afraid the storm will take me out and blow me down and uproot me from the ground before I ever find the reality.

I feel guilty for doubting. I feel like I have cheated on someone beloved- betrayed a faithful friend. I feel self-forsaken. I feel self-condemned. I feel mostly alone. Mostly confused. Mostly lost. Mostly pained. I feel like I have wasted much of the time I've been given. I've wasted my time going in circles around the things I can't reconcile, the things I deem unfixable. I feel like a child who believes the only way to get attention is to act out negatively. I feel incapable of handling and having the things I truly want. I feel like a whore most days, and the other days I just feel...sick.