26 February 2009

I just need to let it all out. I need him to come and visit me because I need to remember that I am wanted. I need a lack of formatting, punctuation and grammar. I need to stop analyzing every word I write in order to not expose myself too much, in order to write exactly what I mean. Why do I listen to the same CD every time I write? Why do I bother writing? Why can't I get anything out of my head. He told me everything is going to reach a breaking point--that shit is going to hit the fan and it's going to be completely out of control. He's right. I know he's right and I don't care enough to change it because I am happy and I don't know how to say no and I can't stop because I just want to feel wanted. I just want to feel wanted. I think the words I write are stupid. They don't even come close to describing exactly how I feel, so it seems silly and trite. I seem silly and trite on paper. I'm not, I promise.

Pause.

Why am I scared of what she thinks of me? Why am I scared of myself? Why can't I just take the moment and run with it and not wait for others' approval, or even disapproval? Why do I need others to confirm what I already know to be true? I can't cry unless I'm drunk. I can't sleep without drinking first. I am making a mess of my life and I just don't care anymore. I think they all hate me. Secretly, I know they don't and that scares me more than anything. I don't know how anyone could ever love me because I don't love myself and I don't love anything and I just push everything and everyone away. I just destroy it. All of it.

Pause.

This wasn't supposed to be formatted like this. I was supposed to sit down and let my consciousness take over, like Faulkner. I was supposed to sit down and just write and not worry about whether or not it makes sense but I can't help checking to see if it makes sense because if it makes sense maybe I make sense and I am scared that I do not make sense. I am not logical. I wish I could be more logical. He said all girls are illogical. Maybe that is true. Maybe it is not. I have midterms next week and I'm going to fail all of them and I just don't know what to do anymore. I just don't know because the only thing I've ever been good at was school and now I've even given that up and replaced it with things I should not be doing. The only thing I've ever been good at was school. I made my parents so proud and if they could see me now it would kill them and I love them. I have emotions. Real emotions, painful emotions, emotions that I wish I never had.

Pause.

What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing? When did all of this become a downward spiral? When did I stop believing in anything? When did I betray myself and my body and my spirit? Why do I need sex and drugs and alcohol to feel better about everything? When did I lose my self-respect? Did I ever even have self-respect? I know they don't respect me. How could they? But still I expect them to. I need them to. I need someone to respect me.

Pause.

Why did he die and why did they leave and why can't I hold onto people for more than two years? And why do I feel the need to change everything when I am happy? Why am I so scared of letting myself be happy? Why can't I ever let my guard down? Why can't I tell the truth? Why do I have so much hatred stored up in my heart? I haven't lived an exceptionally tragic life. I don't know why I feel so sad and so angry all of the time. And I know I need therapy and I just can't grow the balls to go because it's like admitting failure. I know I'm a failure. I know that I have fucked everything to hell. I know I have and I can't change that now and I don't want to talk to a stranger about it because I don't even know where to start. And I don't want to be on medication because I don't want to need it but I know I need it because I AM SO ANGRY. I'm angry at the way the world works and the way the people in the world works. I'm angry because I don't understand myself and I don't know what to do anymore and I can't let go. I can't let go. I'm so angry.

Mostly I just need to cry. And find the perfect words. And he's on his way to visit me right now. And my laundry is in the washing machines. And the weather's beautiful. And I miss him.

I'm too far from home, all alone on the road
Trying to figure out who I am now that the stardust has turned to sand
and the sand has turned to stone on the starmaking machine...

Trying to make the world make sense out of me
Trying to be loved completely, trying to love honestly
Trying to find a decent high noon cup of tea
In another shitty hotel
I'm trying to listen to the leaves speak
Trying to steal secrets from fishes in the creek
Trying to figure out who I am.