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Posted on July 29th, 2012

Seeking Solstice

I’ve been putting off writing because I was unsure what “seeking solstice” was supposed to mean as my next topic. I did a little research but hardly anything that would help me come up with an answer. And with the warm weather it’s been much easier to fall asleep in the sun or simply do something other than what I should be. It finally dawned on me that seeking solstice doesn’t make sense and, excuse me for crossing boundaries, perhaps there was a typo and it was supposed to read seeking solace. However, other people who have done this challenge have all titled this section as Seeking Solstice. And maybe that’s the right thing to do. Maybe I’ve got it all backwards. But I’m more in the mood to write about seeking solace and what I think that might mean, so that’s what’s going down.

I spend the majority of my time wanting to do things, and then convincing myself not to do them. And then I make myself feel bad for not doing it. And then I feel like I need to be comforted for a missed opportunity when it was my own damn fault anyway. I don’t want to seek solace; I want to feel alive.

I spend the majority of my time skipping out on things because of what someone else might think, say, or feel about it. I’ll be judged for my actions when it’s hardly a big deal. But I’m afraid of words, somehow. Afraid they will pinch the arm fat. Afraid to talk back, pinch back, and state my own opinions. Afraid to justify myself. I bite my tongue and let the breeze slowly drift things away. I don’t want to seek solace; I want to speak lines.

I spend the majority of my time feeling sorry for myself. Expecting someone to always be able to cheer me up. Expecting when I spew my bull shit someone else will make it better. Someone else with better things to say than what I could muster up. Sometimes I wish I could grow a pair, just for a little while. I don’t want to seek solace; I want to thrive.

I spend the majority of my time blaming my misfortunes on my hormones. But that’s justified, isn’t it? “I’ll be fine, my hormones are just making me act crazy this week.” What, is it a temporary disability? No. It’s okay to cry, it’s okay to be dissatisfied, and it’s okay not to see eye to eye. It’s not okay to bottle everything up with carbonation and shake shake shake shake until it explodes into a mess that no one, I mean NO ONE wants to clean. Not even yourself. Save the Bounty. Open up a bit. I don’t want to seek solace; I want to survive.

I spend the majority of my time being miserably jealous. I’m not an unhappy person, but when I’m jealous I couldn’t be any unhappier. Misery sinks in and festers into a infection, affecting most of my day until I can’t even function. I don’t want to live this way. I don’t need to live this way. I know this. I can use my words and express how I feel without putting on the pouty face and making everyone else miserable first. Big girl words. I can use ’em. I know how. This probably ties in with the hormones, but then that almost justifies me being crazy. I can’t openly admit to that. Or can I? Why yes, I think I will. I am crazy. But I’m a good crazy. I’m not psychotic. I’ve mentioned a threat here or there, but I’m all talk. I’ve said I wanted to throw teachers out windows or punch children, but it’s never happened and I’ve never had any intentions on following through with anything of this nature. I don’t need to be jealous. I can learn to appreciate other people or other things without hating them for what I’m jealous of. But even with that being said, that doesn’t prevent being jealous. It is what it is and I feel how I feel. I can only expect to be understood and respected for how I feel and not ignored. So sometimes on this I want to seek solace; I don’t want to be deprived.

But really? I spend the majority of my time being happy. Happy with who I am and what I’m doing now. Of course it’s not all perfect, but misery doesn’t need my company, that’s for sure. If I spend too much time looking for comfort from others But… where does that leave me? No place good. No place worth my time. I don’t want to seek solace; I want to be satisfied.

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