Soggy Pretzels

It's amazing how many different emotions I've been through in the last few weeks. Anxiety, fear, elation, rage, disappointment, excitement, uncertainty, desire, love, determination, and about a hundred others. I suppose this is true of anyone, really. But the amplification levels of my particular emotions have been high. That's just a result of the kinds of life-altering things I've had to deal with so far this year. At times, it's felt as though I've been experiencing all possible emotions at once, and they gel together into a single blob that rests inside my heart, inflating it to multiple sizes of itself. This is one of those times.

It's been put to me that I have several problems with my life as it stands now, and this is something I don't hesitate to admit to anyone who'll listen, including myself. It is because of these problems that I do feel lucky to have so many people who understand what having problems means, and are willing to lend a hand to sort out at least some of the minor ones, as I would for them. The larger problems, of course, still rest solely on my shoulders, as they rightly should. To that end, I'm okay with having problems now, because I am working tirelessly to fix them. Previously, I was not, and this was the reason for my aformentioned rut, and the resulting depression and stagnation that was my life, thus making the problems bigger still.

Consequently, and with regard to my past actions and situations, I have been misconstrued time and time again by people around my life as being something I am not. A layabout, a charity case, a whiner, a supplicant or an abuser of privilege and more. If there is one thing that irks me, it is being labelled as something I'm not. While such descriptions as listed here may be assumed or inferred by mere observation, they are certainly not true in actual reality, and I believe most people who really know me would agree that such descriptors would not apply to me. Because of my choices, I've made my bed to lie in, but the bed is not who I am, and I can choose to leave the room if I want.

In any case, misconstruction has happened to me once again this very night, and with someone that I care very deeply about. My already heavy heart is made further still by the realization that I have been made to end things for at least a while, and there hasn't been enough time yet for me to even get to the bedroom door, let alone leave the room, thus proving that I can be all the things I say I can ultimately be.