Saturday, January 26, 2008

The truth is...

Every day I wake up and have to force myself to get out of bed. It's embarrassing how out of control I feel of my life and my own mind sometimes, because I want people to believe I have everything together, that I'm fine. I never feel fine. I rarely feel happy. I feel like my life is too complicated to hold together, even though it's really not... I fantasize about living in a cabin at the edge of a mountain and doing nothing but gardening and milking goats all day. I crave freedom, simplicity, and hate myself because I feel that it's a cop-out. I feel homeless, lost, unsettled, nervous, directionless. I feel extremely alone. I think I've felt alone since my mother moved away. I have nightmares and I wake up with my muscles tense and my mouth open and dry and I lie awake at night, afraid to close my eyes because I feel there's something staring at me. I can barely sleep. It's like I'm searching for something all the time... there's an emptiness I can't describe or fill or change, no matter how much I will myself to feel good or what pep talk my mind gives me. I feel incomplete and unlovable because how can anyone love a person who isnt themself? I don't feel like myself. I don't feel anything, really, except a desire to run away and a fear of doing anything, of failing at anything. It's paralyzing. I don't know what's missing. I don't know if it's God or art or a fucking chemical in my brain... but something just isn't there. I'm this shell that walks around, trying not to touch anything for fear of being shattered. It's pathetic.

I wonder how long it'll be before I delete this post.

"We chase misprinted lies
We face the path of time
And yet I fight
And yet I fight
This battle all alone
No one to cry to
No place to call home

My gift of self is raped
My privacy is raked
And yet I find
And yet I find
Repeating in my head
If I can't be my own
I'd feel better dead"