29. writers residency day 4
i'll admit it. i'm tired. i'm sick and tired of this shit. i tell myself i like the process of writing and editing and refinement, but this is no way to live for long. i'm putting on a time limit on this so it doesn't consume me. i'm more than this, this medical school application cycle.
it's freaking okay to not have the justifications for why i do what i do right now. it feels like i'm battling the part of me that really wants to be an actor. i don't want to battle it out. i don't want to feel like it's a fight that i must win or lose.
i feel so tired today.
constant chatter lulled to a droll in the background. like any other day, i hear my thoughts every minute. i'm happy when i don't think. no, that's actually not true. i like thinking. when am i happier? do i want to be happier?
i'm secretly scared of being punished. i'm scared of being rejected and abandoned if i disappoint with my life choices. like giving up medicine to pursue acting. disappointing parents. maybe even disappointing myself.
i feel like i've arrived at that same thought before. i guess this is a pretty big dilemma for me.
i like my short hair. i grew out the bristles of hair above my lip and beneath my chin. it looked half presentable about a day ago. now it's just scrubby and looks poor. i do think a goatee would look cool and manly. maybe that's an idea for 28 years.
it kind of feels like i can go rogue. like i can look anyone square in the eye and say, "give me your hand. let's shake." even though there's that part of myself that quivers when faced with a risk, a leap to give someone my heart.
that's the thing. where's the quiver in my life? i've loaded my arrow on the bow, pulling back and readying a launch to my target. i've been writing and editing professional language every day. but where's the quiver?
okay maybe that's a metaphor work-in-progress.
wanduffle