nothing else will do
When you become so aware of every moment, and then aware of the awareness and time kind of folds in on itself, each moment serving only to predict the next. Life feels routine. And no matter how badly I want an escape I can not find one.
I'm realizing just how much I relied on friends in the bay area to keep me distracted. In all sort of ways. I don't have that here. My only confidant is Parker and she lives across the hall from me and has her own problems and has been playing League of Legends all day. I just want a change of scenary. A change of perspective. Someone to touch. Someone to make music feel good again.
I'm too old to be talking like this. Everyone around me has figured out their shit, or are at least really good at pretending to have it figured out. This is unreal. This is inexcusable.
I tried watching a new season of a tv show I really liked, but had to pause it halfway through and take a nap because I couldn't bring mytself to care enough. I don't care about fiction. I don't care about characters that are madeup. And I feel this way about video games too. I have a huge collection, and I can't bring myself to care about any of it. I don't want it anymore. I don't care enough to decorate my room. I don't care enough to buy new clothes. All I care about are the people close to me in my life and I can't be near most of them.
I'm not in love with Portland. And I don't want to be. I dislike big cities. I don't like seeing a thousand strangers faces a day. I don't like this weird mutual slavery thing we got going on with the food and service industry. I don't like having to drive to a square of grass miles away just to experience something green. I don't like not knowing my neighbors.
I'm not proud of my life. I don't answer the phone when most people call. I don't want to hear your anecdotes. I don't want to hear my own tiresome circular reflections.
Dating is some kind of cosmic joke. I don't have the energy to try to impress new people. I can't deal with how insincere and simulated your conversation feels. People I'm fond of don't care for me. Or pretend not to. I know. This is the game.
If I drop off the face of the earth, you'll know why. There's an entire other life calling me. And I can't explain or justify it to you. I don't know how to feel good living like this. work. rent. prepackaged food. drink to feel again. bitch about how tired we all are. A lot of what I thought was important is fading from my sight. I don't want to lug it around anymore. I feel like someone watching a person live a life. My mouth moves automatically. A day job is the only thing I'm relied on for. And even then I'm disposable.
I feel absolutely crazy saying this, and in fact haven't told anyone. Because I don't seem to be on the same frequency with anyone anymore. But when I moved to Portland I had this nagging voice in my head, as I've had for years, telling me I should be somewhere else, doing something else. Telling me I shouldn't feel satisfied here. Influencing my choices and urging me to live my highest truth. I yelled at it before going to bed one night. I told it to stop bothering me. To give me a clear direction and make sense right now or fucking go away. That night I dreamt it left me. I woke up with a great emptiness. I was free.
I'm realizing just how much I relied on friends in the bay area to keep me distracted. In all sort of ways. I don't have that here. My only confidant is Parker and she lives across the hall from me and has her own problems and has been playing League of Legends all day. I just want a change of scenary. A change of perspective. Someone to touch. Someone to make music feel good again.
I'm too old to be talking like this. Everyone around me has figured out their shit, or are at least really good at pretending to have it figured out. This is unreal. This is inexcusable.
I tried watching a new season of a tv show I really liked, but had to pause it halfway through and take a nap because I couldn't bring mytself to care enough. I don't care about fiction. I don't care about characters that are madeup. And I feel this way about video games too. I have a huge collection, and I can't bring myself to care about any of it. I don't want it anymore. I don't care enough to decorate my room. I don't care enough to buy new clothes. All I care about are the people close to me in my life and I can't be near most of them.
I'm not in love with Portland. And I don't want to be. I dislike big cities. I don't like seeing a thousand strangers faces a day. I don't like this weird mutual slavery thing we got going on with the food and service industry. I don't like having to drive to a square of grass miles away just to experience something green. I don't like not knowing my neighbors.
I'm not proud of my life. I don't answer the phone when most people call. I don't want to hear your anecdotes. I don't want to hear my own tiresome circular reflections.
Dating is some kind of cosmic joke. I don't have the energy to try to impress new people. I can't deal with how insincere and simulated your conversation feels. People I'm fond of don't care for me. Or pretend not to. I know. This is the game.
If I drop off the face of the earth, you'll know why. There's an entire other life calling me. And I can't explain or justify it to you. I don't know how to feel good living like this. work. rent. prepackaged food. drink to feel again. bitch about how tired we all are. A lot of what I thought was important is fading from my sight. I don't want to lug it around anymore. I feel like someone watching a person live a life. My mouth moves automatically. A day job is the only thing I'm relied on for. And even then I'm disposable.
I feel absolutely crazy saying this, and in fact haven't told anyone. Because I don't seem to be on the same frequency with anyone anymore. But when I moved to Portland I had this nagging voice in my head, as I've had for years, telling me I should be somewhere else, doing something else. Telling me I shouldn't feel satisfied here. Influencing my choices and urging me to live my highest truth. I yelled at it before going to bed one night. I told it to stop bothering me. To give me a clear direction and make sense right now or fucking go away. That night I dreamt it left me. I woke up with a great emptiness. I was free.