Unwell

I've always wondered at dissatisfied people, people who had all that they could possibly want, but still kept looking for more. I never understood this vague disenchantment, and I never had time for it. Right now, though, I think I'm beginning to understand. I mean, its the holidays, there is absolutely no work that I have to attend to. I'm living with no other aim in mind than to do exactly what pleases me, and therefore, lately, I've realized that I have absolutely no idea what I'm looking for, what makes me happy. On the surface, my life seems absolutely fine to me. I'm still studying (barely), which, everyone, assures me, is the best thing to do, I have good friends who are mostly reasonable in dealing with me, my family also doesn't seem to be asking me any uncomfortable questions (like "Who the heck will hire you next year? You're talentless AND you have no noteworthy qualifications..."). But still, I can't sleep at night. I keep squirming because of this weird weightlessness in my stomach (and believe me, stuffing it with food in order to lend it some gravity doesn't help).

It was so much easier as a child. As I told a fellow blogger recently, I was much more mature at eight than I am at twenty two. I knew exactly what it was that I wanted, and exactly how to achieve it. I could clinically separate the believable fairy tales (oxymoron, you say? You've never read a fairy tale like I have) from the ones which were merely foolish flights of fancy. Most of all, I was a great deal more secure. Secure in the knowledge that I was doing the right thing (I've had very strangely flexible morals, even as a child). I was happy being the sickly child who owlishly devoured book after book, never going out to play, unless my wilder cousins threatened me with unspeakable consequences (no, I shan't speak of those....shudder). I had so much to think of, so many plans to make inside my head, to be implemented when I was 'all grown up'. I was so sure that I was gonna make a really great 'grown up'.

Now I'm not so sure anymore. I feel severely hemmed in, suffocated by my inablilities. I want to talk, but I feel stupid when I try. Even this post is embarrassing me, but the discontent needs to be expressed somehow, so I don't care. I don't want to be nice or thoughtful or smart, or whatever it is that I'm supposed to be, anymore. I only want to not want more, to be happy with what I have, but I don't know how...