That time when I thought too much..
This was typed on my phone around an hour and thirty minutes ago before I logged on Tumblr. I was on the way home from an expected early exit from a night out, but an hour or so later than my usual. Yes, my mom messaged me something about wasting my time with orders to go home.
Sometimes, I think that because people have been a bit too protective of me that they don’t trust me. And it began at a time when I was struggling to trust myself. It sounds foolish to a “free spirit” but impressing my parents means something to me. And bit their loss of trust in my ability to make decisions, I also lost trust in myself. Many times I thought that I can’t “do things on my own”. And I still do feel that way sometimes (on nights like this).
I remember my mom telling me that I should fight for the things I truly want. But whenever I hear them, I get the feeling that there are decisions (none of which are the drug-addict criminal life sort, of course) that they will never allow. I’ve asked about them before, and I know where they stand. So when that mental picture of them frowning at me doing something appears, I don’t even try.
For some things, a heart-felt encouragement is all I ask for. The type that doesn’t show their hearts breaking when they say yes (because then I still don’t do it).
I used to really blame them. But I’ve learned that it’s me who allowed these things to happen. Now I’m inside a van on the way back home, wondering (for the nth time) what could have happened if I stayed a little later at the bar (note: I don’t even drink that much because I get allergies. Sometimes I just like the atmosphere and the conversation. I get awkward but other people get less awkward around me when they’ve had a couple of drinks); if I chose to go job hunting right after graduation despite the pain on my father’s voice when he suggested it as an alternative to graduate school (where I’ve been taking things a bit slow because I want to learn things better). They’re not quite happy with the results I’ve produced. Of course a lot of that can be blamed on me. But they’re never going to be fully impressed anyway. And it’s not their life. It’s mine.
I know I am loved. I know that compared to the lives of others, I am pampered like a prince and I may well be called an ungrateful son (but I wasn’t truly thankful of what they’ve done, I don’t think I’ll even consider what they think of me). But what I’ve done so far has left me worrying about my future. Sometimes, I GET SO SCARED I WON’T MAKE IT THAT I CAN’T SLEEP WELL. And I want to believe everyone who says that it’ll be okay. But for some reason, no one, not even I, can say it with a certainty that I will believe in. I never thought I’d feel so helpless.
