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to say that i've been cranky lately would be an understatement. to say that I know what I want would be a lie. and to say that i'm sane would be less than the truth. i've begun to think that the truth is that I will never truly be sane, that maybe this is just who I am, that I will spend the rest of my life fighting the dark space inside me that threatens to ruin everything I have by calling it "not good enough" when really, right now, nothing is good enough and nothing could be good enough because there is nothing that can make it just SHUT UP. most days, that's all I'm really looking for. I call it looking for something to do or something to eat or drink or smoke or just something. really, i just want my head to stop. and I don't know when it got this bad again. and I don't know if it really is this bad, or if that's just what my fingers are writing now. I used to believe that there was truth in everything I wrote, when I wrote stream-of-consciousness, just because I wrote it, and it came out my head and sprang through my fingers to the keyboard, but now i'm not so sure. i don't really think I'm crazy. I don't really think it's as bad as all that. I remember what crazy feels like. It feels like the corner of a dark room, it feels like music taking on a shape, surrounding me and shaping me. and I wonder, if I had had angry music then, would I have been sad? I listened to sarah mclachlan, mostly. if cds could be worn out, fumbling towards ecstacy would be. but what if it had been out of range? what if instead of "good enough" there had been I don't want to play for you anymore show me what you can do tell me what you here for I want my old friends I want my old face I want myu old mind fuck this time and place maybe it wouldn't have mattered. maybe it would have been exactly the same. maybe I sought out the sad music, maybe I have it backwards. Maybe I'm just rambling because I'm tired and cold and I don't want to study and maybe that's all it's ever been, maybe I'm less crazy than lazy and all of my so-called problems have stemmed from Just Not Wanting To. Because that's true. I just don't want to. I just don't want to get out of bed in the morning or do my schoolwork or go to work or hang out with my friends or do just about anything, at least today. when do we learn that there are things in life we have to do? when does that sense of obligation become so big that everything is just something we have to do? Like just because we were put on this planet in this country we have a duty to do so many things and what if it's too much? what if I can't do it? What if no one wants me too anyway, and I just feel obligated out of some inner jiminy cricket who tells me that I am blessed, and I need to give back? What about the days when I want someone to give back to me? ~me |