Maybe I had to be a selfish jackass in my 20s in order to become a loving, sympathetic person in my 30s. You know, get it out of my system. But I'm not there yet. I am still pretty selfish. I am still pretty wrapped up in this persona I've created for myself. I only turned 30 last month, though. Give me a minute.
I've said it before, but I wish I would write more about the mundane details of my day. I wish I'd write more period. I wish I'd get my period. I wish the doctor would call me back. I wish someone would trace their finger along my back when I'm stuck here feeling anxious and afraid. I wish I'd stop seeing myself as stuck, even if I am. Maybe if I can visualize movement and freedom, it will come true? Why can't I find freedom in the stagnant stages of life?
It's time for me to find a lighter collection. Not lighter as in, "Hey, man, do you have a lighter?" Lighter as in weight. The books I have hoarded are my children, yes, but they are stiff, heavy children that do not make moving or the minimalist lifestyle very easy. Maybe it's time I start collecting air. I can capture your breath in vials and let it sit in the sun on my windowsill. I would try collecting light, but it's heavier than books. Don't believe me? Try balancing the sun on your head.