Reminiscing in the cold

After years of confusion and not knowing which path to chose I decided to go back to university and work on a master's. I decided to go back to the university I got my degree because I felt I needed and need to prove myself. I also consider it to be the best place to find my voice because it was the place where I lost myself, my voice, my power.
Sometimes I get depressed because maybe I'm not good enough, or I don't really have a voice or a clear vision... All I have are these words that haunt me when I sleep. People would say "they're just words, Edna! snap out of it!". But words are never just words... they are manifestations of ones thoughts, voice, perspective, vision... Maybe my words are all I have. Maybe the written word is my voice. Or maybe I'm just tripping...

Last  Friday  I went to a lecture on documentary-making and it was quite interesting. It got me thinking maybe I can actually do this. Maybe I can create some art... the one thing in my life that always made sense - art. My ex-classmate gave the lecture and he was very clear... What I gathered from those two hours is that sometimes you have to lose yourself and take your time finding your voice. Once you let out the first syllable you'll be able to scream out your message in no time for the whole world to hear it. I wonder if one day the world will listen to me and see the world as I see it. The whole process of finding myself scares me to death... but I have to try.
This cold I caught leaving the lecture must count for something in the long run. I went outside for a smoke and all these different memories came rushing back - I could see the past unfolding before my eyes, walking the halls, like ghosts or some sort of residual energy hanging around me. I could hear all those voices of people I used to know. Their voices got louder and louder that I had to shut my eyes for a minute. The lit cigarette forgotten between my cold fingers. I heard an echoing voices pulling me out of the past. It was my current classmate. She was talking about her problems and putting her thoughts out there for me to analyze (or maybe so I could agree and validate them) but fuck if I know anything! I can't even fix my own life or understand what kind of shit goes on with me. So... reminiscing in the cold was basically what got me this funky cold that is totally destroying my nose.

Today is Sunday and I'm at my parents' for a visit. I'm ill... this cold might be evolving into something else. It might be the perfect time to settle my ideas and stop freaking out. I need to focus but I am constantly tired. The world around me bores me. I let myself get lost in books - poetry, novels... I should be reading the materials I need to work on my thesis but the truth is I feel so alone that poetic works and novels are the only written solace I can fully submerge myself in and forget about... everything. Even myself.

Maybe tomorrow I'll get out of this funk. But today, I shall crawl into bed with Bukowski and let him take me to places I remember from my past. My past is hidden behind every one of his words. And when I look myself in the mirror and see this person I don't recognize I feel disgusted, angry, sorry, powerless... That is a huge part of my problems. Not knowing where to start to change what bothers me, not knowing how to love myself. Because if I don't love myself who will? Even though I've always felt comfortable on my own and thought that people would have to like/love me for who I am and not how I look, I must confess that I am not happy with how I look. I look tired, heavy, broken, lifeless. I vowed going gym "shopping" and getting my ass back in shape but I'm... I have no idea what is holding me back. I need some sort of motivation and I don't know how or where to get some.

So I guess what I'm trying to say is that all these past nights were filled with confusion and random thoughts that made no sense at all. I was mostly caught up with some sort of passive-aggressive  anxiety that is making me feel a lot like a dear caught in headlights. Am I on the right path? Am I reading enough? Am I working enough? Will I be able to get things done? Will I find my voice? Will I finally figure out who I am? Maybe... but not tonight.