On feeling wild, restless, insecure, and a whole host of other unpleasant things

When I was in the seventh grade, a bird flew into my science class. We were all screaming like idiots, because the bird kept on flying dangerously close to our heads. Eventually the bird found its way out of the room (I vaguely recall someone shooing the bird out after it had landed on a chair), but not after it had hurled itself bodily at all the windows.

My heart feels a little like that bird, trapped in a room and throwing myself futilely at the windows. The problem here, however, is that I am both the bird and the room. I'm trying so hard to be free of myself, to the point of inflicting pain upon my person, but I can't just fly out. There are no open windows, no open doors, no twelve year old showing me the way out. I'm raging inside myself and it's breaking my heart.

I can't fully express what it is that I want, either. I can't free myself from myself, because so much of what has made me is inescapable – and I wouldn't want to escape it. I want to face it head on, and let myself heal. I want to know where I've been, but I don't want to be here anymore.

I'm restless, I'm dying to be free of this strange incongruity between myself and me. I don't know how to connect who I am with what I want to be.

And I don't even know what I'm saying anymore. I can't find the words to express what I'm feeling, what I want, what I fear. I feel wild inside, and not in the "girls gone wild" sense, but in the "wild and wounded animal" sense. Wild, wounded, and searching frantically for a place free of hurt and pain. While trapped. Inside myself.

My mind is a helluva place to be at this moment.

Nostalgia's a silly bitch.

I meant to write about this earlier, but decided that I preferred two smaller posts to one gargantuan post of doom.

Student Council had an Eggs & Orgs rehearsal Wednesday evening; early (naturally), I made my way through the ResHalls and toward Pepper Canyon Hall very slowly, taking in the aftermath of Move-In, watching the first-years interact with one another - and getting hit by one giant wave of nostalgia and regret.
Matters were not aided any when I encountered a number of RAs gathering to go out to eat. Such a huge part of me wanted to be one of them again, and not because I missed the people, not because I missed the friendships I made, but because I missed that level of involvement. I missed being a fairly important part of the first-year's college experience. I missed the job.
I didn't think I'd regret my decision at all; for a while, I was bitter enough to be thrilled that I declined the alternate position. But for that moment, I sorely regretted that act of pride.
Eggs & Orgs didn't help matters much. I joked lightly with some friends of mine that this was my most uninvolved Orientation since my first year, and it's true - I have very little to do with Orientation activities this time around. And it showed at Eggs & Orgs - I was bored. I wanted more to do, I wanted more tasks. I wanted more involvement.
I'm wearing such a different Student Life hat this year, and something tells me that it doesn't quite fit.
But even with the nostalgia, even with the regret, I still wouldn't return to ResLife. Call it pride, if you will - I do - but I could and still can not stand the idea of returning as only second-best, especially after a year in which I gave my job everything I had. To be an alternate was just a slap in the face, and I very proudly rejected the offer. And if I had the chance to do it over, I would. In a heartbeat.
Trying to understand myself now, I realize that I don't even regret the decision I made, nor am I so bitter anymore. And in the long run, being relieved of the RA duties (I remember every horrible aspect as well as I do the good) will be a pleasure. But Welcome Week is going to sting like hell.
I was part of the winning team at Unolympics, last year. This year will be the first time I won't take any part of it at all. I won't be present at any of the other Welcome Week activities either, I don't think. My heart isn't in it, even while it's so desperate to be.

Anyway, such musings have me in a rather agitated mood, at the moment. These thoughts, combined with other... intriguing revelations have made me restless.
Did you know that it's kind of difficult liking someone if you aren't sure if they're single? Or straight?

Such thoughts of mine have robbed me of sleep for the past couple of hours. I was sleepy, not too long ago.

listening to: "This ain't a scene, it's an arms race" - Fallout Boy