I am awake. Tired, sleepy, and in pain—physically and mentally. The weight of my emotions crashes over me like a relentless wave, threatening to drag me under. If I focus, if I listen closely, I can almost hear the sound of my blood coursing through my veins, a frantic symphony of life desperately trying to keep me afloat. That's where I am now. Struggling to hold myself together, to cling to the fragile thread of sanity that keeps me going. My heart beats too fast, a wild drumroll of anxiety that I hadn't even realized until now.

What am I so worried about? Perhaps it's the knowledge that next week, I won't find solace in the familiar embrace of my own home. Or maybe it's the overwhelming realization that I have a mountain of tasks to conquer, each one demanding my attention, yet I find myself immobilized, unable to take even the smallest step forward. And then there's the sickening ache of missing those I haven't even parted with yet, a pang of longing that tugs at my heartstrings, threatening to unravel me before I've even begun.

But there's something else too—a discovery of an unfamiliar emotion that has taken root within me. It's something I never thought I would feel, never anticipated, and now I am too terrified to admit it even to myself. Its presence unsettles me, shaking the foundations of who I thought I was. Yet, I can't deny its existence, nor the power it holds over me.

"I will be okay, I will be okay," I unconsciously whisper to myself, like a mantra in the quiet moments. And it's true, I am okay, at least sometimes. Mostly during the daylight hours when distractions cloak my unease. Or when exhaustion engulfs me, and the comforting oblivion of sleep becomes my sanctuary. But there are certain hours when I just can't bear it anymore, when the weight becomes unbearable and threatens to consume me entirely.

I've heard stories of spontaneous human combustion, the sudden eruption of one's body into flames. It sounds absurd, fantastical even, but in moments like these, it feels strangely plausible. The intensity of my emotions, the overwhelming pressure building inside, it feels as if I could combust at any given moment. And yet, here I am, still holding on, still fighting the inferno raging within.

a revised version of what I wrote

The isolation of maturity is a surprise to everyone. You may have heard numerous adults express this sentiment, but I'm not sure we've found the words that do justice to how we feel. It's a period when we're often confronted with new problems and obligations that can feel overwhelming, and when we're often forced to leave behind the structure and support of our childhood and teenage years, which I felt I did six years way too early. Even though I have a relatively light load compared to others, juggling my work career with the need to keep breathing every day is still too much.

It's true that your worst opponent is you; at least, that's how it is for me. The only person who puts greater stress on me is myself. Having a fulfilling professional life, a lively social life, a solid social circle, and a clear sense of direction in life is a common ideal. However, in practise, it is not always simple to accomplish these goals, and it can be discouraging when we fall short.

For someone who has spent the majority of her life alone, but now finds herself involuntarily isolated, this irony is not lost on her. The exposure and development it provides are invaluable, to be sure, but at this point, I wonder what else I could possibly want or need.

Yes, I finally have the time to update my blog. I guess this is the first post of the year, huh? Hasn't 2022 been a long time? It feels like a lot has happened in a year, from losing friends to moving places to graduating and getting promoted! And I have no idea what to expect this year. Let's go through the last year in brief. We have a limitless number of dates. Some were scary, while others were fine, but none of them got me anywhere. Dates were a pleasant experience, but what did I gain other than a long dating history? I suppose the search for the one will continue this year. Then there's my job. I enjoy what I do. I'm a writer. I fricking write for a living, and it's something I adore. Getting promoted was also the best thing that ever happened to my career. Writing has always been my passion, and to be able to do it professionally brings me immense joy. It's not always easy, though. There are moments of self-doubt and writer's block, but the feeling when the words flow effortlessly and the ideas come together is incomparable. I consider myself fortunate to have found a career that aligns with my deepest interests. In addition to my work, there's the aspect of personal connections. Friends have come and gone throughout the year, but the ones who remain have become an important part of my life. We've shared laughter, tears, and countless memories. Hanging out with friends and creating new ones has added so much richness to my days. The support and camaraderie we share is priceless. Overall, it's been a fairly fantastic year. Despite the challenges and uncertainties, I've grown as an individual, both personally and professionally. I've learned to appreciate the little things and find joy in the everyday moments. Life is a continuous journey, and each year brings its own set of experiences and lessons. As for my resolutions for 2023, I'm still uncertain. I'm contemplating creating a vision board, a visual representation of my aspirations and goals for the year. It could serve as a constant reminder of what I want to achieve and inspire me to take action. Perhaps, through my blog, I can document the process of creating and working towards those goals, sharing my successes and struggles along the way.