A Personal Change

As a withdrawn bookish teenager and through the early part of my adulthood, I was not very good at handling pressure.  Being considered a “nervous person” was an understatement— I was so painfully shy that I could not look people in the eye, muttered often, and thought nobody understood what I was going through. Fortunately, I changed and began to appreciate people as much as I did words on a page.  It always felt contrary to my nature pursuing a solitary life.

I’m at the point now where I am determined to keep writing.  Having gotten past obsessing about what others think of me, every day I look to improve my skill.  Though I often wonder why I feel compelled to push myself, it probably has something to do with my fear of impermanence and longing for my time on earth to last.  Ego aside, I wish to keep a record of my thoughts and creativity.  I just want desperately and foolishly for something in my life to remain, even if it only be a brief ramble or 2.  I guess this is my way of saying, “Hey world! I was here.”

Probably because I was a very lazy and apathetic teenager, I did not try very hard at academics—at least not until I entered college. I realized the other night that since I left home at age 19, I’ve lived in about twenty different places with more than that number of roommates.  Once at college, I began writing to maintain a semblance of consistentcy in my life….  As far as dealing with impermanence, two of the schools I’ve attended no longer exist. Unfortunately, they were the two I appreciated the most.  More importantly, a dear friend from high school died years ago and I still think about him all the time.  Family members keep passing away.  Relationships have ended abruptly.  Nonetheless, I guess I had better get used to the idea that places and people do inevitably change.  Perhaps change is the only true thing in life?  I need to accept that.