It’s been awhile since I’ve written something of any substance. Well, I did write some standup material but that’s a whole other issue. I have tons of excuses for why I haven’t written anything, but I forgot that the reason I loved writing in the first place was because it allowed me to be myself. I was able to write about anything I wanted without feeling judged or feeling the need for anyone to validate it. Since I last posted something on here, I have went through a lot of emotional such and such. Most of it probably brought on by myself, but hey, there’s no rulebook to life — unless you include some kind of religious script and to that I say, good for you. But honestly, there’s no strategy guide for how to go through life. I severely wish there was one. I suck at a lot of things and currently life seems to be one of them. With this knowledge, I still lift my head up and keep it moving, because progress is better than no progress. I guess. The last few times I did write, they were basically filled with a garbage dump truck worth of vulnerability. And while that’s perfectly fine, it’s hard to write that kind of material because of how emotionally exhausting it is for me. But now I am back with the same type of honest, vulnerable Kamari. Why, you may ask. Because it’s damn near impossible for me to vulnerable to a human being and this keyboard is all I have at the moment. I have tried to be vulnerable with people, but time and time again they have let me down. So in order to release this energy that I have had pent up inside of me for the past couple of months, hear I am again to deposit a piece of my soul into this post.
I want to be vulnerable with a person so desperately, but I am afraid. I am afraid of them seeing me as weak and unworthy. As seeing me as what I am really am, which is just young kid who happens to have aged into a 22-year-old adult. I want to tell someone that my insecurities are cuts so deep that I don’t really think I will ever fully heal from them. I want to tell them that my heart aches from the struggles that my mother and sisters are experiencing. But all I have is this keyboard and my brain. And it sucks.
I don’t want to get all “woe is me” because that’s not the case, really. I do have friends and family whom I’m very close to, but it seems that I don’t trust anybody enough to let them know what churns within. Life was a lot simpler when the only feelings I could express were sad and happy. I guess one of the parts of growing up, is allowing those around you to know that there is more than just the surface. Maybe growing up is finally realizing that the world doesn’t revolve around yourself and recognizing that there are people willing to listen and understand and console. You just have to be willing to open up to them. And by you, I mean me.