Have you ever looked at a picture of yourself and just have a hard time believing it was or is really you?
There was this day this past week. It was maybe 3:30AM and I was in Wightman, trying to finish my painting.
I mean, obviously it is supposed to be me, looking in a mirror at myself. What I could potentially be. It's very much more in depth than the current picture on this blog (which, by the way, the painting is supposed to be displayed upside down). Anyway, so it was really, really early in the morning and I had decided that there was definitely no way I'd be getting any sleep that night, despite the feeling of pure exhaustion. I walked to the bathroom in the building, which was eerily quiet. Like that uncomfortable quiet that you don't really like walking around in. Anyway, so I get to the bathroom and I stand there and I just stare at myself in the mirror.
It was odd.
Most likely just because I was so exhausted and I'd been staring at my painting for hours upon hours. However, it was like it wasn't me. I actually felt like I could reach out and touch a different person.
Who does that? Who looks at themself and doesn't see the same person? Am I crazy or what?
Or maybe I was just that overly exhausted.
To be quite honest, I feel so pulled in different directions lately that it is almost unbearable. People just tearing at me and wanting me to help them. And I want to help them, I really do. But I cannot live life for them. I can't.
I have to be everything I can be for people.
I love life. I honestly do. But something doesn't feel right. Something is up.
And I've got a really bad feeling. In my gut. Just something isn't right.