Boiling Points

At the moment, I'm asking myself the same question Su pondered in one of her posts: Why is that the people you love hurt you the most?

I've often regretted my decision to go to grad school without getting in a solid few years of working in the "real world." It wasn't something I wanted to pursue as a resume builder but it was the desire to experience independence - particularly economically. I hate that I must feel constantly dependent on others, burdening them while feeling guilty when they remind me of that dependence. This past year has made me crave freedom in a way I've never felt. Sometimes that craving drives me mad and makes me act stupidly, brazenly and immaturely. Yesterday was an example of me reaching such a boiling point; I'll spare the details since I don't have the energy to expound on it. Even my original feelings and thoughts about marriage have changed. I once viewed it as this stage that strips you of your identity. Considering my status now, though, it appears to be more liberating than suffocating. Of course that's all conditional on the person and the circumstances.

After 23 years of living, this is not where I envisioned my life. I imagine most people feel the same but in your own little world it still feels like you're the lonely peg trying to figure things out and when you think you've reached a breakthrough, something comes along to snatch it away; whether it be your own pride or someone else's insecurity.

Insecurities. I'm tired of feeling them and I'm tired of others projecting them. Most of my life has been lived timidly and I'm tired of it. I'm tired of being stifled. I'm tired of my foxhole. I'm tired and saddened by people you love trusting strangers rather than you. I'm tired of having to scratch at every wall to be heard. I'm tired of feeling apprehensive. I'm tired of lacking confidence and harboring a low self-esteem. I'm tired of walking on eggshells. I'm tired of my temper. I'm tired of being burned and burning others. I'm tired of miscommunication and false dignity. I'm tired of repetition. Its 2am and I'm still tired, but not sleepy.

I often wonder where I would be had I led my life differently, had I led a double life like so many others I know - keeping secrets from their parents, doing God knows what, where and with whom, being superficial. Yet having not done those things, I am *illogically* the one to mistrust. Somehow I believe that had I engaged in those things, the me that would have been shaped by it all would be more accepted by family, by society. The ends would have justified the means.

I apologize for all this incoherent rambling. I couldn't sleep out of a smoldering rage so I figured venting via writing would help. I guess it has. Maybe. But this kind of stuff doesn't go away, does it?