Bottleneck
Life has me in that narrow place again. School is heaping up demands by way of time and money that just might drive me insane.
No, that's too melodramatic. After living as long as I have, really nothing is going to drive me insane. But it does make me feel useless, unwanted, and innately wrong. It seems that trying to learn involves letting people demand that you give more than you have and be something that you're not. It's always worked out so far, which is strange, because for every instant every time I try, it feels like death and failure heaped ten times over. I do it, I learn, I adapt, I survive. I hate it.
Of all the voices echoing in the background of my life, only a few actually encourage me to finish these things I've started. Most affirm that what I'm trying for is good, but that I should already be there, and if I'm not, I should conviniently cease to exist.
I wonder if that's there, in the world. I wonder if deep down people don't wish they could make other people vanish, one by one until the pressure's off. Once upon a time, when things got too crowded, somebody would go off and pitch their tents in a new place.
Now there are no new places. Yeah, we're getting crowded, and everybody knows it, deep down. The only real question is just what the fuck we intend to do about it.
In the face of any really big questions, I feel useless. Guess it's just a matter of making it another day, another month, chasing the things you love relentlessly. Is that hope, selfishness, or insanity?
We are animals out of our element. Life may be good, but in our lifetimes, it will never be comfortable.
No, that's too melodramatic. After living as long as I have, really nothing is going to drive me insane. But it does make me feel useless, unwanted, and innately wrong. It seems that trying to learn involves letting people demand that you give more than you have and be something that you're not. It's always worked out so far, which is strange, because for every instant every time I try, it feels like death and failure heaped ten times over. I do it, I learn, I adapt, I survive. I hate it.
Of all the voices echoing in the background of my life, only a few actually encourage me to finish these things I've started. Most affirm that what I'm trying for is good, but that I should already be there, and if I'm not, I should conviniently cease to exist.
I wonder if that's there, in the world. I wonder if deep down people don't wish they could make other people vanish, one by one until the pressure's off. Once upon a time, when things got too crowded, somebody would go off and pitch their tents in a new place.
Now there are no new places. Yeah, we're getting crowded, and everybody knows it, deep down. The only real question is just what the fuck we intend to do about it.
In the face of any really big questions, I feel useless. Guess it's just a matter of making it another day, another month, chasing the things you love relentlessly. Is that hope, selfishness, or insanity?
We are animals out of our element. Life may be good, but in our lifetimes, it will never be comfortable.