mynamesearn

As I was on the bike home, I started thinking about whether or not I belong anywhere at all. It’s weird. I was born in a small town, but my life has always existed somewhere between that and the city. It’s like I’m always floating between two worlds. Can I even say I’m a city girl? And if I move to the city, will I feel like I finally belong? Or will I just be carrying this same in-between feeling with me, just in a different place?

I’ve never really felt rooted anywhere. Not completely. And I think part of that is because my life has always felt like it sits right in the middle. I’m not great at studying, but I’m also not terrible. I’m not loud, but I’m not quiet either. I’m not rebellious, but I’m not obedient.

I’m just… in between. And being the middle person kind of sucks, because you never fully fit into one thing. You never fully get to claim an identity. Half the time, I’m like, do I even know who I am? Of course, I know parts of me. But deep down, when I’m quiet with myself, I sometimes wonder do I really know? Or am I just used to pretending that I do?

One of the only times I feel like I’m truly myself is when I’m on the back of a bike, music blasting in my ears, wind in my face, and my thoughts running wild. It’s such a simple joy, but it always takes me somewhere deeper. Today, it made me realize something I wasn’t expecting: maybe I don’t need to know who I am all the time. Maybe I don’t need to find one version of me to hold onto. Maybe the point of life isn’t about certainty.

Maybe this fear I carry — of not knowing, of always being unsure — is the enemy. And maybe it’s been growing inside me since I was a kid. Maybe it comes from never feeling fully secure. Emotionally. Financially. Just… everything.

It’s such a weird thing, being not rich but also not poor. People don’t talk about that enough. It’s like you don’t qualify for support, but you’re still constantly struggling. I was having a good day today. And then my dad told me he didn’t have enough money to pay for the electricity and asked if he could borrow some from me.

I just what the fuck? No way. But also… we’ve just been behind on the bill for two months. It’s not a disaster. But it still made me feel something heavy. Like, damn. I don’t even have enough to help if I wanted to. And that scared me.

I know my dad’s going to figure it out. But that doesn’t stop me from feeling this constant undercurrent of unsafety. Like I’m always one bad day away from everything crumbling. And then I start comparing, which I hate. I hear people talk about how they love eating meals with their parents because it means they don’t have to worry about paying. Their parents just cover everything. They can eat whatever they want, no stress. And I think, wow, that’s nice. I’ve never had that.

When I was a kid and my parents took me out to eat, it was always tense. They’d argue about whether they could even afford the place. Sometimes they’d fight about who was going to pay. We had to order the cheapest things on the menu just so they could afford to cover my food. I never got to be the kid who just sat there, carefree, ordering what they wanted. And yeah, I guess that shaped me. That made me cautious. That made me carry this feeling of limitation, even now.

And maybe that’s why I am the way I am. Maybe that’s why I care too much. Why I always try to cherish people. Why I become my own worst enemy sometimes. Because I carry all this stuff inside that I’ve never fully unpacked. And I hate it. I hate how heavy it feels.

But maybe it’s not something that needs fixing. Maybe this is just who I am. Maybe the fact that I always feel like I’m nowhere doesn’t mean something’s wrong with me. Maybe being in the middle isn’t a flaw. Maybe the world needs people like me — the ones who are floating, observing, feeling everything a little too much.

Sometimes, life feels like I’m standing still while a thousand people hit me all at once. And I’m so used to it, so numb, that I just let it happen. But I don’t want to be that version of me anymore. I can’t change other people’s behavior. But I can change how I respond. Instead of standing there, maybe I’ll walk away. Or maybe I’ll hit back, not out of spite, but because I have the right to protect myself. I have the right to demand better.

I like to think I’m capable of that. Of fighting back. Of being loud when I need to be. Maybe I should stop bottling things up. Maybe I should speak up more when I’m upset. Ask for what I need. Not just take whatever scraps someone gives me. And honestly, I think I’ve been doing that lately. Bit by bit. Saying what I really think. Being clearer. And I’m proud of that.

What’s the worst thing that could happen? People hate me? Okay. And? Why should I care what some stranger thinks about me?

And if you’re still reading this… I think you might have a crush on me. Seriously. Who the hell reads this far? It sounds like a teenage girl’s diary. Not that I’m mad about it. I love the vibe. There’s something raw and sweet about it.

So if you’re here, reading this, I want to tell you something: I’m crazy. And maybe you should be too. If you’re not already. Because this world is insane. And trying to be “normal” in it will break you.

I hope you find your way. I hope you figure out this chaotic, unpredictable life in your own time. I hope you find peace. And if you don’t, I hope you turn your anger into something that matters. Use it for something real.

And me? I know I’ll figure it out too. I know I’ll fix my financial problems, learn to stop my bad spending habits, and one day finally feel safe. Truly secure. And when that happens, I’ll look back at this version of me with love, knowing she made it through even when everything felt uncertain.

See you again when I’m on the bike, mind spinning, music on, trying to make sense of everything. xx