Drifting

Does your mind ever race to the point where you can't think? Where each thought is like a bright streak against night sky that soars, bursts, and then abruptly disappears? I lose so many of my thoughts this way- of course, more than 75% of them are hardly what one would call important (along the line of, "hmmm what shoes should I wear tomorrow to match that white skirt I've been wanting to wear? or "wow, my arms are almost as pale as two strobe lights"), but sometimes, I wish that I had more time to dwell on some thoughts. Not that I am at nature what people would call a "thinker". In fact, I'm quite the opposite. I'm perfectly content 99.9% of the time to stay in my superficial world of fashion magazines and fine dining and that perfectly molded pair of designer jeans. But the other .10% of the time, it bothers me greatly that my life seems to be heading in no visible direction. I feel like one of those old antique rooster weather vanes lost in the wind, twirling first east, then west, then swinging up north, only to find myself back down south again. I just feel like I'm...drifting. And not the happy kind of "let me see where the wind will take me" drifting. It's the helpless, almost desperate kind of drifting that leaves my head swarming with a million thoughts at the end of the day, none of which are helpful in getting me back on my feet. A part of me thinks that I have never truly even been on my feet- I've been la-la-la-ing through life for as long as I can remember, and now, 22 1/2 years old and counting, the la la la's are fading and all I really have to hang onto is...me. It's a disconcerting and disheartening thought, when you realize that all you truly have is yourself, and the self you have isn't something you can even cling onto, because it turns to ashes with one single touch. As a result, I've grown to doubt some things just a tiny little bit, and others a whole lot of bits. I just want something to really believe in - but, truly, how often do any of us find something so precious?