Internal. Yourself. Everytime.
I have this very intense fear of being regular. Of becoming normal. Of being just like everyone else. I have no idea where it comes from or why it colors the way I think about things. But it does.
I think it’s a desire not to be tied down. A deep paranoia of that “quiet desperation.” Not liking what you do, living vicariously through others. To wake up one day and realize that if you really had something to say, there’d be no way you could tell anyone. You know, that day where you reach for your revolver.
Whatever. It’d be real easy to get caught up in that. That being different is better. And if you’re different then you’re better. Here’s the thing I’m starting to realize: It says way more about me than it does about everybody else. It comes from a place of deep insecurity. If it creates anxiousness, it’s probably not coming from self-comfort or assuredness.
It’s not something to be proud of or hold up against other people, because frankly, it has nothing to do with other people. Some amorphous, reactionary fear over something that not only have complete control over but have the ability to define as well is not exactly an improvement.
Like most things, it’s internal and that’s where I need to direct the attention.