It's always two steps backwards, too much gravity to feel the highs. And all these plans I've been chasing getting caught up and wasted

With enough time to think, there's an existential crisis awaiting. I've been thinking a lot about my life, what I want, what is expected of me, what I can do. It's so easy to dismiss the things I want. But it tears at me, and I'm back to thinking about what the hell I'm doing. This inner turmoil I could do without. It's kind of funny, because I don't think I've ever lashed out as a teenager, well not that much anyway. It's not until now that I've chosen to go in directions my parents would rather I not. I think that no matter how old you become, you never want to disappoint your parents. So when you do, it's still tough. Maybe it's selfish to put my own happiness first, but I think that in the end, you being happy will make people understand. Though it might take a long time for people to see that. And it's never good going around being unhappy with yourself and your life. If it's possible, I think you should try to do something about it. It doesn't have to be the biggest things, like completely change your life. You know, it's the small things that matter. I think my crisis stems from not having a steady path in life. I've no idea what to do, and to be honest, I've not had a clue since I was 18 and started grumbling about my education. When I've become so used to always have something to do, I've gotten a bit lost once I haven't the steady schedule everyday. I've long stopped comparing my life with others, because I know that each person struggles with their own turmoil. It's not that, I don't want to be another person. And though I'm sometimes miserable, I'm very happy I am in this place right now. It means I cannot avoid my thoughts, and have to think through them. It's so easy to forget when you have work to occupy yourself with, or other things. I realised this morning, hugging a cup of tea to my chest in the sofa that can room ten people probably, that no matter where I go, I'll still feel like this. Obviously not all the time, but it'll still stick to my bones. Kiwi said to me that she wished she'd read more books. I said it's not always good. I read, read and read. And I know within myself that it's my way of disappearing for a bit, just like travelling is a way to get away from my thoughts. I spent yesterday in a museum, sat on a little puff and staring into the eyes of a painted man, thinking "Geoff, what am I supposed to do?". It would be nice to get some clarity, to have a realisation of some sorts. But I'm not counting on it. For now, I'll be doing some more reflection, and I expect it'll be for the next eight months. More or less. It sounds a bit like a lifetime, but I know very well that it goes by in a blink of an eye. What brought this on, you may think. Maybe it was the rain, the fact that I'm working night shifts at a foreign place starting today, or this loneliness that sits in my core no matter what, or reading a heart wrenching fan fiction (The Hobbit). The latter, I did this morning, in the sofa alone. Well, technically I started reading it yesterday, hours before bed. It was about wanderlust, searching for something you're not yet ready to acknowledge you're searching for, mourning the deaths of loved ones, reopening of wounds, and the battle of finding peace (what an oxymoron). Strangely I didn't cry, but it's lodged a lump in my throat that refuses to move. I am going to do some painting, probably, and wallow in this moroseness. I'll be awake all night, so that'll do wonders for my mental health. That's sarcastic, don't subject yourself to sleeplessness unless you can't avoid it (or, you know, if it's for a good thing like watching the sunrise). Right, onwards with painting!