Why Am I Even Blogging?

I feel like I have nothing important to say. I cannot get motivated to write or blog at all. I am forcing myself to blog just so I can say I have done something for IND Study. I seriously am beginning to wonder why I blog? I don't have anything special to say. One benefit is my informal writing has definately improved. I have a pimple right on my hairline that is really killing me. I popped it once, but it is all huge and painful. I have a paper to finish for BIO tonight, I had a nice day at the nursing home and at Big Brothers Big Sisters. I had a major flashback when I sat in on my little sister's music class. I had the same teacher in elementary and I could not keep a straight face at how everything was the same. I am worried about the 96 year old woman I visit at the nursing home. She is really sick. I always really worry about her when she gets sick. I just can't help but wonder if she will get better.

Today in Independent Study, ms. eddy was talking about how she can see through people and that scares people, because they do not like to expose their vulnerabilties. I then asked her "but don't you think people can see through you too?" She was telling me about how she is not ashamed of herself and she purposely makes herself transparent. She was claiming she puts everything out there for everyone to see, even the bad stuff like hate, failure, and weakness. She was saying she is not proud of it, but she is not ashamed of it. It got me thinking how much more comfortable I have grown with myself, but I started trying to decide if anyone can ever be totally comfortable with themselves and if so how long until I get there? People can tell me all day that they are comfortable with themselves, but I can't help but doubt them. I am such an optimist at times, but totally pesimistic at others. This is one of those things I have a hard time being optimistic about. I can't help but think everyone is just caught up in their image. I don't understand extremes and lack of understanding. I really do not have anything to say, but I need to push myself. I have taken too many days off from writing.

I'm content with who I am,
but scared of who I will be.
I don't feel happy,
but I don't feel sad.
I don't feel anything at this exact second.
I am not worried.
Happiness passes within a few seconds.
It is nice, but overrated.
Sadness evolves into a greater happiness.
It is hard, but builds character.
I wouldn't change a thing,
but I often wish I could.