Lately, I feel so scattered. A trillion pieces of me have flown to who-knows-where, enveloping me with this sensation of being lost.
Yes, lost, I am. I do not know the answers to essential questions like what really matters to me, or what I want to do with my life. It’s frightening to be a person of no answers, of no direction, of no meaning.
It happens frequently, usually asymptomatic. It’s simply an abrupt seizure of thoughts that surges into my mind and invades my every particle. Someone calls it “overthinking”, which I think is the most appropriate term for my condition.
What follows the seizure is a devouring wretchedness. (I find myself all gloomy and silent and staring into nothingness.)
And so, to put some sense into the void that I am right now, I’ve decided to chronicle my search for my own self. Because I understand myself more if I lay my thoughts on paper (i.e. type them down on Word), I figured it would be best to address this problem using the only fire that remains burning in me: writing.