Restless

Sometimes I wonder how people live their whole lives following the same routine. How they can spend 30 years in the same job and feel happy and satisfied. I...I get restless after the first month of routine.

Maybe it’s a subconscious fear of getting settled, of making a decision. Maybe it’s influenced by the people around us, maybe seeing my parents go through quite a number of jobs themselves during my childhood influenced. (Yes I admit I'm studying psychology and I am using what I learnt and proudly so mind you)

Or maybe it’s a genetic disease like Parkinson's and it gets worse as time goes by. Maybe that explains why as I grow up I always seem to want more, my amusement is satisfied for a shorter span of time and my hunger for the unknown and the new is growing much greater.

This disease might explain why I've had such a varied choice of cliques and why I can never disclose my deepest thoughts and fears to anyone. Is it because I don't trust them? Funnily enough it’s more because I don't trust myself. I don't trust myself to depend on someone because it means giving up a part of me that I'm not ready to let go of, and maybe I'll never be. That thin wall I keep around me, it’s to keep me from getting too attached so that I'll never rethink my dream of leaving this place. Also I cannot forget my dear friend cynicism who believes that nothing stays the same, that people change, and friendships don't last forever.

I am now incapable of doing just one thing at a time. I need the TV on while I read, I have two windows open on my laptop while watching a DVD, and I have music in the background while writing this. I'm restless and my attention span grows shorter each day.

What used to captivate my attention and fascinate me now bores me. The bands I used to love are now forgotten. I'm always in the search of something new, something better. Just like antique collectors keep searching for that unique thing to add to their prized collection I keep searching for that thing that seems to be missing in my life.

While finishing writing this my leg is starting to twitch, as my mind starts thinking of the next thing to do, the next story to write. And I wonder if my thirst for something new will ever be quenched or will I be like the adrenaline junkies who are always in the search for greater heights to jump from, higher mountains to climb. Will my restlessness ever be placated or will I keep searching for something, a new relationship, a new job, a new life.

Maybe I'm bound to live the lonely traveller's life going in and out of other people's stories without having one of my own. Maybe I'll be known as the girl who was only stopped by death. Or just as a person for whom nothing was ever enough...