Looking at my laptop’s current battery at 64%, it made me realize that I pretty much function like it. My laptop is already almost outlet-dependent and like it, I feel the need to be plugged to function or I will die. But in the process of trying to “do”, I don’t allow myself to just “be”. And slowly, unknowingly, I’m also killing myself.
You see, I’m the kind of person who is used to doing a lot of things. Put me in a car for a slow 20-minute drive and I will fidget like crazy. I will try to look for something to do, trust me on that. And when I can’t, I’ll keep my mind preoccupied with things that I can do when I get home. In the process of all that, I lose the essence of just being. I lose the worth of peace and calm, of solitude, of enjoying nothingness. There are too many times in my life, especially recently, that I have been busy but not entirely productive.
It’s 09:50 pm as I write this and I’m not even fazed that I have things that I can do. Solely because it’s where it all starts. I find a vacant time and instead of enjoying my peace, I tend to look for something to do. Make me do something, anything, just don’t let me enjoy my peace. I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve to get a “me time” because I don’t really contribute anything useful to the world. As if the world really cares.
I can give you 5 things I can do right now, at the top of my head. But that’s the thing, I don’t have to. At least, not at this time of the day. It’s 10 pm, for God’s sake, why do I even want to bother and work, knowing my heart would only be half or a quarter into it? Why do I force myself to do things? I let myself be consumed by the thought that I always have to be in places or I have to do things or I’m missing out on a lot. I feel like staying quiet about my little achievements proves that I’m not doing anything, even though it’s not true. I think it boils down to the fact that I’m obsessed with the idea of letting the world know, “Hey, these are the things I did today,” and in the process, I force myself to act on things that I don’t really have to. It’s exhausting to be me, really. I like pressuring myself, and when I don’t achieve my goals, I feel disappointed. It sucks, right?
Anyway, I don’t know the point of this blog post. I just felt like writing it. I found myself staring into space and being exhausting at the mere fact of wanting to do things, so I stopped and looked for my peace. And in that peace, I found something I could do without feeling bad about it. I wrote my heart out.