Being realistic, all of this comes down to loneliness and being afraid. That’s why I write, because I am scared, because I am alone and it’s scary. I am constantly running in a big circle heading nowhere in particular. What do I want my life to be about? I still have no clue. I’m getting old and I’m growing up, and with every year that passes I find myself more terrified of committing to anything. I wonder if I am just running my way out of choosing something when really it does not matter all that much what I choose, as long as I give it myself to it completely. I either stay still because I am afraid of taking another wrong step or I throw myself completely at all the wrong things. How many times have I realised that in order to be happy all I need is love and caring and understanding and intimacy? I know what I need to be happy; I just haven’t met them yet. My biggest problem, I can’t settle for second best. That’s my real fear. I am always waiting for something better to come along.
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