I Want to Rock Your Gypsy Soul

I sit here alone in my apartment at 4:53 in the morning finishing off a bag of salt and vinegar chips and drinking coke out of a mug because I can. Because no one is watching and the only people who can think anything of it are the ones who will read this and by then it will be too late and there will be nothing they can say to change my behavior or make me feel guilty for it.

I am 31 years old. I haven't perfected living, and know I never will. I think sometimes that I am immature for my age...that I am somehow stunted and incorrect. That I should have a husband and children by now - I should wear heels to work and be a mother. Be a caretaker, a teacher, a comfort, and a disciplinarian. I shouldn't worry about acting immature because i shouldn't be doing it. I shouldn't be eating like a slob at 5am at all. If I wasn't doing it I wouldn't have to worry about someone telling me don't do it
don't do it
stop doing it
grow up
you're too old for this
I don't know if there is any efficacy to either way of thinking or if both sides have their merits. All it dictates really is who you get along with, who you can relate to. Are you a disciplined, respected adult? Are you a 5am unhealthy slob who just wants to be left alone? And all the combinations and permutations of traits and tics we have. And we have so much.
No matter how little our pockets hold our minds are full.
Sometimes it's thunder
sometimes it's overcast
foggy
hazy
sunny
But sometimes it's summer's heat lightning coming from all corners of the dark night sky to interweave and connect, culminating in a burst of beauty that cannot be ignored.

I wonder what I'm doing here; I wonder what I'm doing on earth, in life, in the Bronx, at my job, in school - I wonder what I'm doing eating junk food at 5:16am on a Friday morning. I wonder if I do any of these things for a purpose, and if so how many? How many serve a long term goal? How many serve only as an escape from the rest?

I wonder for what I am searching.
I wonder if I am searching at all.
Then I decide: I am sure I am searching for something, and not because I have an idea of what it is, but because I have an eternal restlessness within me that will not be quelled.