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Little Me

My head has been preoccupied lately - with almost everything you can possibly imagine.

And for some reason I've come to realize that my head is always full of thoughts about everything - but myself.

As soon as I wake up my mind starts racing about work, how so and so is doing, what they meant when they said this or that, why it's raining, what to have for dinner, how I forgot to do my nails - and the list goes on and on.

Funny enough most of my thoughts are connected to what someone else thinks, or what I think that someone else thinks.

So basically all my thoughts are formed around outside confirmation.

It's a pretty strange realization - because I guess it means that I never really think about myself. About what I want.

Do I even have a clue?

It feels as if somewhere long ago I managed to think that it was better to care for everyone else but myself.

Or maybe it was easier, or even necessary, because I was not getting what I wanted or needed anyway.

Or maybe I subconsciously knew that I couldn't deal with the emotions that were buried underneath - once I'd actually ask myself who I was and what I wanted.

I don't know - I still don't know.

What I do know however, is that I don't want to live the life that most people are living. I don't want to be a statistic, a random person that does random things.

For some reason I feel that I'm supposed to do something else.

Yet I also feel that it's all going to seem random to me if I don't manage to value exactly that - the random stuff.

Maybe I'm talking in circles here but I just have this feeling of being so fed up with having to be someone.

Because I really just want to be - and have fun - do simple things that I enjoy - without having to worry about being able to pay my mortgage or whatever.

I guess it's little me again that needs something - that's been needing something all her life and never had it.

The simple stuff, the stuff that kids love to do, without a care in the world.

So maybe I just have to let her be a kid.

I'm not quite sure what that means, but I feel it's got something to do with just doing stuff because I enjoy it.

Which also means that I have to ask her what she likes to do - because I honestly don't know.

She's still being neglected, I'm still wondering about everyone else but her. I guess no one really ever asked me when I was little and I just got used to it.

So I'm going to try and ask myself what she would want - or need.

Without caring about what I think everyone else thinks about it.

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