90 - The Long, Heavy Search for Something to Feel

I’m here again.

In that quiet place 

inside my head where everything echoes a bit too loudly.

Talking to myself, 

trying to understand this emptiness that never really leaves.

I’ve spent years looking inward,

digging around in my own mind,

learning things about myself 

Things that maybe I didn’t even want to know.

And sometimes I think that’s the problem 

I understand too much.

I see the patterns, 

the reasons, 

the history behind every feeling,

and somehow that makes it harder to get out of this place,

not easier.

There are days I wish I didn’t understand any of it.

That I could just live like everyone else seems to 

feeling something small and just… enjoy it,

without immediately analysing why it happened

or why it didn’t last

or what it means about the bigger picture.

But I know what I’m missing.

I know what I’m trying to find.

So everything I do feels intentional,

like I’m searching for something specific

instead of stumbling into life the way other people do.

It doesn’t feel like an adventure.

It feels like a search party

looking for someone who’s been missing for years.

Even if the journey takes the same amount of time,

I feel every second of it.

Every step.

And it’s heavy.

Because somewhere along the way I realised

I don’t have anything in my life

that feels strong enough to protect,

nothing that makes me say,

“This is worth everything. This is the thing I’d hold onto no matter what.”

Everything I have 

my work, my achievements, the things I’ve built 

they feel like tools I’m carrying while I search.

Useful, maybe.

But not the thing itself.

And once I find what I’m looking for,

I know I won’t need any of it.

This isn’t about wanting to disappear.

It’s not that.

I know there are people who care about me,

people who appreciate what I bring into their lives.

And I care about them too.

But caring isn’t the same as having something

that gives your life direction,

something that makes you feel anchored.

I’m not the centre of anyone’s world,

and they’re not the centre of mine.

We cross paths,

we help each other,

we matter in moments 

but we don’t define each other.

What I’m trying to find

is something that gives meaning to what I do,

not reasons, not explanations,

but something I can care about deeply enough

that I stop carrying all this weight

and start living for myself

instead of for the search.