ٍٍٍالله خلقنـــي نـــــفس تسمـــــو عـــن البوح مـــاهـي إذا ضاقـــت مـــن الـــهم بــاحتٍٍٍٍ

9h9 كتب:

I am entirely lost in life, which I hate sayin cuz it seems so much the privilege of the privileged. I’m not a scion of wealth or power, though I grew up in an objectively comfortable home. My mother, to whom I was very close, passed away when I was 14, and my father and I have always been distant at best, his obsessive calculations born of his own childhood poverty a consistent dampener to my intuitive self. I feel, in some way, that I am capable compelled, even to do so something interesting, dynamic, substantive, creative with my life. And yet I am wholly incapable of being interesting, dynamic, substantive or creative.
I want so desperately to be someone, to do somethin though to no one other than myself but I realize I have no idea what I want to say or, really, who I am. People constantly tell me to write, to be funny they insist I am, though this letter belies another truth and yet I find I’m terminally intimidated by the idea of actually defining myself, to the point of paralysis. I can’t decide what to do with my life because whatever I do just won’t say the right things which sounds and probably is horribly solipsistic