i just want to

[littledances]

make things and stop feeling frustrated a lot and feel more okay in my skin, more able to comprehend, more understanding of my role in this vast earth, and make more things and maybe sell them - never worry about money again, that'd be nice - and have nights that feel endless in their magical qualities, and blur into the sunshine and melt with the snow and not cry tears that I don't even know where they're coming from and write things that touch people and maybe sometimes even actually touch people and feel like I'm worth something and like the face I see in the mirror and not overthink, overanalyze, not compromise, it'll be alright, not want to burst out of my skin and into another, not stare out the window and weep because I'm just so lost, not sit on the couch with bad posture wishing I was somewhere else - I want to get better because I know I can, and I know I have so many creative impulses in me, and so many beautiful ideas and creations that want to get out, but sometimes I just can't figure out HOW to get them out, and so I sit here and look at pictures and get glum and think too much. A lot of it comes down to "too much" - or "too little" - and that's the hardest part, I guess, letting go of the much and accepting the more and balancing everything out to be just okay, poco y poco, little by little, inch by inch crawling up the ladder/hill/building/something that is life - without a map and somehow figuring it out as we go. I NEED more moments that make me feel like I'm really living something worth living, not just floating between home and work and (soon) school until my life begins. I just got a text from an old friend, and though I had to ask who it was, it still made me sad because now she's getting a grown up job and she graduated after I did and she's always working so hard and what am I doing, just sitting here typing on my silver computer, grumpy and hungry and wishing I could sink into the floor for a little - or maybe not, maybe just wishing I could hide behind the couch for a little, or none of the above and sleep in the snow for a little until I have the strength to do it all over again. I need to write more stories and spend more time with my art, I need to grow up and start doing things like an adult, I need to make christmas gifts and save money and not ruin my future. Right? There's never an explanation for things like that, is there? Mom says, "you need to think about your future," and I never say "okay, but, why?" but I'm sure that even if I did, she'd have an answer for that (moms have an answer for everything), and I'm writing a lot like Ross right now, but that's okay, it feels good, and no one's texting me back and this house feels so bare and lonely. Drafty. Dirty. I need to clean or make food or something that would help me instead of clickaclacka computer computer, but do you ever feel like those things seem to take so much work? maybe I'll eat some food and snort some adderal and then feel motivated and happy, but only briefly, only until I come down, and remember kids: don't do drugs - or if you do them, do them in moderation and be smart and look both ways before you cross the street and blah blah.
And then I --
And then I get sad because I think of the past for too long and I wonder if something went wrong somewhere, or am I doing okay? But regardless, I think back to "happier" times, or maybe just "other" times, and how I miss them and then I feel sort of sick to my stomach and mope around in the living room until something happens. Or-- fuck -- Or DO I?
No
no
fuck this. I'm going to make food and clean and be productive and then feel much, much, much better

I still like the blanket of snow outside and how it crunches under my feet.