Pack up, don't stray

Last summer I bought a notebook to write down all of my perfectly organized exam notes for four or three subjects. Drowning myself in sheets and textbooks the night before my exam to strike my notebook with useless knowledge linked me to my love for free thought.

A week after exams, I continued to plan my life in this notebook. Staying up til 4AM making all sorts of nonsense charts and lists was a normal. I told myself the type of person I am, the ideal husband I'd wait for, the goals that I like to accomplish, the things that make me tick, what I liked best about you, and things that you wouldn't even think possible to be jotted. In this way, I believed that I was able to make a jumbled mind clear. It wasn't that I liked the organization or took pride in all that I thought, it helped me feel safe. When I can write it all out, I feel like I have assurance and security. Sometimes things just pile up and swallow me into its core.

I bought a new notebook before the end of the year. I had intentions on using it to put my life in words and illustration, but it didn't work out.

I lost this talent of expressing myself. I allowed things to pile so high in my mind that I'm not able to sort them to any particular degree. My agenda is so empty and without daily plans that I can't figure time out properly. I have dreams that I wish to aspire, but I can never get them down onto a page.

I just can't bring myself to excel for myself, anymore.