A current frustration

Throughout my interests, both real and fake, I have lost a sense of what it truly means to be alive. I get angry when I am not good at things and don't bother when I am. A constant run-around, racing through this maze of self fulfillment. They always say to stop and smell the roses. It's about the journey, not the destination. Whatever else old people say to make young people feel comfort. It would be amazing to enjoy the journey, except, I have no fucking clue where the hell I am going. My interests are always taken as a grain of sand and I am getting to an age where I am going to have to tell some whatever-teen that it is about the journey, not the destination. the only maze in this life is the one where I try to tie all of my goals together as if they do not require multiple long, arduous, journeys of constant pain. Not even the pain that feels good, the pain where you don't even realize you are hurt until a little bit after the blow; and then, out of nowhere, you fall to you knees screaming at the sky or the white ceiling or whatever else you scream at (you pick).

Maybe this is just part of my twenties where I am angry at the world because I am a woman, or maybe its because I was never raised properly by two loving parents, or maybe its the undiagnosed mental illness. I know there are some screws loose but I am not curious enough to figure out which ones. Call me a coward but I would rather take any other test rather than the psychological brain fuck that makes you think about everything that is wrong with your mind and the way you live. 

I think this entire life is a beautiful, amazing, once in an infinite of chances, type of life. The kind where people fall in love, cry, make art, hate art, love art, scream, jump off cliffs, hide in their rooms for years. But damn is it annoying to constantly feel like you need to know what's going on. I know its about the journey but I barely even know what's happening around me.