Complacency, Contentment & Contempt

I don't know what brings me here today. I haven't written in quite awhile and I'm not feeling especially prolific. There's nothing specific that I need to get off my chest... But I am a firm believer that journaling is good for the soul; and my mood is introspective.

I've been reading a lot of poetry lately, reading friends' blogs, learning about how everyone else describes and deals with their own lives. Yet, I can't manage to put to words what I'm feeling myself. I feel somewhat lost.

In fact, for the first time I can remember, I feel insecure...inadequate.

It's an odd place to be for me. I've always been confident, sure. Regardless of life's obstacles, challenges and basic bullshit, I've never NOT known who I am. I've never compromised of myself. But lately... for reasons I'm still uncertain of... I feel that I have.

And again, there is nothing specific that makes me say so. There was no one event, no specific act, in which I fell short of some standard, real or imagined, that I hold for myself. I'm simply... treading water, making do, surviving, I guess.

I want more!!!

I want passion and fire. I want excitement and comroderie. I want intellect and challenge. I want beauty and laughter and change... I want romance and unbridled, never-ending chemistry!!!

Do I demand too much? Contentment isn't so bad. Is it? I mean, it can be boring... but isn't this what we all hope for - to be content with our lives? Because, for the most part, I am.

I guess the dreamer in me never died. I guess I still want to be an astronaut, a trapeeze artist, an engineer, an actress, a mother, an author, a doctor, a saint... I want to explore the stars and walk barefoot on the beach... I want to discover new technology and learn new languages and teach people how to find God... I want the kind of love that only poets truly know!!!

I want more.