Why, I think I've gone mad.
I feel like I am being compressed, smushed like a bug under the shoes of society.
I'm frustrated and panicie. I don't sleep well anymore, I go to sleep at one in the morning and wake up at three,four,six,and seve eventually getting up at nine. I'm restless. I just lie in bed staring at the celine fan and every once in awhile glance at my alarm clock, the green flourcent numbers provided small amounts of light.
I can't think completely, I'm not all here. I'm away in my mind.
They can't make me go back. I don't want to. It reminds me of a hospital or an asylum with no windows. It's loud and crowded. There is pressure there. There is pressure here. Too much. I can't deal with it.
Why doesn't the water from the facut come out that quickly. It's going so slow. Oh wait that's a metaphor for my life. Except my life seems to be going fast, too fast. I need to stop things for awhile.
I need to stop my thoughts, they are racing, they are all trying to speak at once.
I'm eating my feelings and consiquently I am now fat. The only good part about that place was I didn't eat and then swam for 2hours which, helped me not be so fat. I still was and am but, now it's worse. Ew. I can't even look at myself without thinking about it. Insecure? yes. Honest? maybe.
I want to run away. I want to run so far away and then maybe work at a diner or dig myself a hole and live there. Even if I did that though I'd be consumed by the catholic guilt, by the pressure, by the frustration. It would be there. They never leave me.
My mother says between now and college I don't have time for losers does that mean I don't have time for myself? Maybe.
I have this essay to write. I can't write lately. I try. Nothing comes out. Nothing is written down. It's frustrating not being able to convey my thoughts appropratly. Not being able to find the write words for someone with a big vocabulary.
I want to sleep and unwind and forget. I want to scream so loud and I want to break things. I was to punch a mirror and revel at the blood of my own stuipidity. I think i'm going crazy. I think I've wound myself to tight. tick tick tick tick, that's the sound a clock makes and my life is going with it every second and moment.
I don't know what I want to do. I don't know who I want to be. I don't know where i'll be in 5 years. I'd like to be able to say i'll be up at NYU or somewhere respectable but I don't know. I've been provided for, cared for and loved yet I am not complete. It's the selfish part of me that won't let me except myself. I'm childish and immature. I want to be stripped of all fabrications. I want to get down to nothing and then at that point i'll understand. I'll see the illusions I've believed true for so long.
I'm sorry for the grammar mistakes I've made and the spelling mistakes. I don't feel like correcting it. Maybe I will when my ambition and driving force comes back.
By the way, today, was wonderful. I loved the hours between 2:00 and 4:30ish. Spending time with him is the best thing since sliced bread.
And you, ms.ashlee simpson hair, we must get together and play. I miss you.