I have so many feelings and I never learned how to express myself. Maybe we are born knowing, but through rejection and letting down others, or maybe just being more sensitive, I conditioned myself to never share my identity with others. I am too scared. I have an amazing girlfriend but even then I tread slowly. I must express myself, but I have no mouth. That’s why it is hard for me to stop, but when I finally do, it is hard for me to stop (like ending my blog posts). I have so much I want to say: I am suffering while I write this in the garage listening to Ma Meilleure Ennemie by Stromae, Pomme because I can be inside the house playing with my nieces or talking to my mom making up for the fights we had, or asking my uncle how his day went since he doesn’t want to talk to me right now, or talking to my sister who is going through a lot even though I hurt her. I get paralyzed by what could be. I let my fear exist: I let it consume me. I let it stop me from speaking my mind; from choosing. It is so hard to choose. It is so hard to do. I am scared to express myself; I am so scared to try and help my family because every time I have; well even what I want to say I am afraid. I believe that every thing must be perfect even the words I speak, say, thinking, and ultimately believe. I am so afraid of trying. I am so afraid it is paralyzing. I am so afraid. Fear is the mind killer. I want to get out and the only way I feel will work if it I go to the deep end. I must choose for myself. I must move out with my girlfriend because that is what I want, that is what I need, I am able and ready to do that even if my mom is mad at me and she dies while I am away. I must choose that; I must choose myself. I must upset people, because if I don’t, I will break my heart and just die another fearful man. Now, there is nothing wrong with that. On the contrary, it is still very strong of me to put myself through that. However, I know I can. I know I want to. I know I can. I want too. I will. I guess I am also scared of leaving my old life behind; the one where I am comforted by my mom. Maybe that is the only life I know which is why it is scary to take the first step. Safety is an illusion. It will hurt more the longer I wait. Yeah, I think this is the end of this post.
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