the edge of a waterfall

There’s so much hap­pen­ing at once that it makes my head spin. Sometimes I won­der what it’d be like to be the one writ­ten about, to be on the other side of that lens. What would another per­son say about me? Would it be dif­fer­ent from what I think of myself? And would I like what was said?

I haven’t been able to write, not from a lack of time or desire, but because I can’t keep a straight thought for long enough to get it on a page. Even when I can get myself to sit down for an hour, I just end up in an end­less cycle of inspired writ­ing and crit­i­cal revi­sions. I’ve been ques­tion­ing every­thing. I don’t know what I’m work­ing towards, where I’m going to end up, or even what I want any­more. It’s easy to get over­whelmed by it all, so I have to remind myself to take every­thing one day at a time.

It’s no longer about resolv­ing strug­gles and learn­ing to grow, it’s about fun­da­men­tal changes in the per­son I am and the way I define myself. When you’re unsure of who you are, noth­ing in the world seems sta­ble. Maybe that’s why the good doc­tor asked me if I was scared of chang­ing. I told him yes, but only because I don’t know if the per­son I am now would like the per­son I’ll be later.


  1. Or your old self and new self could have a lit­tle chat about what the bet­ter choice is. My two sides still argue from time to time, but they both agree, in the end, it’s always about what’s best in the long term.

    • I feel like there’s no going back, like my new and old self can’t exist at the same time cause they’d be oppo­sites. I wish I could tell if that’s a good thing or not.

  2. As I always say, it’s a mat­ter of per­spec­tive. The rea­son why I was unset­tled for a long time was because the two halves of myself were polar oppo­sites. The con­trast­ing of which was that one would think with the heart and the other with the head so they would often butt heads.

    Learning to find the mid­dle ground that would sat­isfy both sides helped me deal with a lot of actual world rela­tion­ships with peo­ple though cause in the end it’s the same thing, learn­ing to com­pro­mise and how to give and take.

    Just that, I live with an old cou­ple inside of my own body, one that will always bicker about every sin­gle thing, but in the end, can never live with­out one another.

  3. There’s a risk in tak­ing on the new if it’s in a direc­tion you are not really yet changed to, though.

    I made huge changes in the direc­tion I thought I should go — uti­liz­ing a dif­fer­ent modus operandi — only to find years later that I was really the same old me after all, and most of that interim stuff was a me I envi­sioned would be a bet­ter stronger me, yet a me that I didn’t so much grow into as put on like a new rain­coat. (A blue rain­coat. A famous one…). Having done that, I had to cir­cle back around and actu­ally become that new me more grad­u­ally. So .… grad­u­ally is the key, I think.

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