I don't know whether it is a common occurrence shared by a wide range of people, but I sometimes find myself looking in the mirror, wondering who the person looking back is. My face often looks more foreign to me than of any people I know - however distant I know them.
It is probably only me sensing this sudden disconnection of me, my personality, and me, my body and I am aware that I am getting awfully philosophical here, but today in the morning, I had struggles making out the face which was - as far as logic told me - mine. I often feel like my face doesn't reflect who I think I am and want to be. Alright, I guess there are many people who look at their face and wish to be someone else, but that is not what I mean. I am talking about a real feeling of disembodiment where you cannot link your character to your appearance anymore. Who is this? What does she want? Can this be me? However, when I start pondering what the face matching my character would look like, I am stuck, too. Would I be more gorgeous?...Probably, but that is only wishful thinking, I guess. Would my hair colour be a real ginger or blonde like my natural colour is and, more importantly, would I feel less disembodied if I let my hair grow out and assume a more natural look? You see, I have got a lot of time on my hands today...too much time, apparently. After a week of doing, doing, doing, my weekend started pretty slow. I read a horrifying book by Karin Slaughter which gave me nighhtmares (it's Pretty Girls if you're interested in never sleeping again) and, today, went to Kingston to buy literally nothing (well, I did, but nothing I wanted, only things I needed, which is never fun). Tonight I will go out with N to the Meltdown, but I am feeling so tired at the moment that I can hardly picture myself getting up and go, but then there is FOMO (see last post) rising within me again and, a more recent metaphor, the fear of only dipping and never swimming. There is this image I have of myself sitting next to the gigantic pool of life but only dipping into it with my toe. I know I don't take enough risks, care too much what others think and am too afraid of failing, but the idea that all these fears might withhold me from swimming in the pool of life is quite frightening, and I figured that shutting myself into a room and watching 90210 could not really be described as swimming, so I want to give it a shot. Breathe. So I want to embrace opportunities to go swimming, even if it means challenging my weaker self and leave my refuge of security. I mean what would be the worst thing that could happen? (Be abducted, slaughtered, raped by a masked man with a machete and then, ultimately, killed...well, thank you, Karin Slaughter). Wish me luck and I will keep you posted.
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AuthorIn September 2015 I started a new chapter of my life by moving (temporarily or permanently, not yet decided) to England where I work and socialise now. Archives
December 2017
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