Something terrible has happened; I’ve started second guessing myself, which I ultimately believe to be a sign of old age.
What happened to the confident punk kid, bred from hippie freaks? The girl that spoke without thinking, and didn’t regret it for a second? That acted insane and never really cared if she didn’t fit in with the norm? Was I naïve and uncaring of how my strong opinions (and language) would affect people? Or did I assume that my audience would appreciate my untamed (sometimes vulgar) honesty? And when did that free spirit become confined in the scared world of contrite, copasetic speech?
Having children has sped up the decline of my anti-establishment behavior… when every new conversation I have with a mom or teacher sends my brain scrambling for some sort of commonality to relate with them. More often than not, I find myself in the strange circumstance of having nothing to say. Yet, I can somehow spark up a 10 minute conversation with a tattooed stranger at the grocery store about the Black Keys.
I hate feeling alone and unconnected… although, I want to be different and unique. Does everyone feel like this? It’s like, at any moment, the dichotomy of my personality threatens to pull me in half. Do we all perform this balancing act within our own psyche? Which is harder? To live blindly by instincts, or driven to madness with second guesses?