"slow me down"
fuck. i have been such a fucking wreck lately. everything around me hurts. the air feels like it weighs a hundred pounds and my future seems like inevitable sharp spikes at the bottom of a yawning chasm. not to sound melodramatic, but there is something fucking wrong with me. i feel like my brain is wired all wrong but my mom just gives me a hug and tells me i'm fine and my boyfriend just gives me a hug and tells me i'm perfect the way i am and my dog sits on me and sighs and goes to sleep. i'm so afraid of the future.
i'm so afraid of college and my mom keeps shoving it down my throat. i don't know what i want. when i tell people the colleges i think sound promising because they have horses and marine bio, they tell me i can do better than that. and that makes me second guess myself. they tell me i can do whatever i set my mind to. but is that what i want? do i really want to push myself and end up in some miserable job? do i want to be a marine biologist that lives off grant money? or do i want to be a horse trainer barely scratches by between big projects? or maybe a starving artist? maybe i want to be a psycologist who in the end is driven to madness and commits suicide. if people tell me i'm going to succeed and be great and all that shit, how come i can never see it? and what defines successful anyway?? what makes it so elusive? why can't it ever be me?
i feel like i'm growing appart from you guys. i feel like i'm growing appart from myself. i'm not sure it's such a good thing. everytime someone does something that hurts me, everytime i do something that hurts me, my ivory tower grows. every tear, another brick is added to the immense feat of masonry. every word, another thorn on the already forboding thicket. each reminder of things that should have stayed forgotten, another bar on the window. soon i'll never be able to get out of here.
i hate vacation, but i hate school even more, so i guess it evens out.
i ran into an old trainer of mine when i was buying make-up at mac at the mall. he was the owner of the pony who taught me to love riding. he used to jump volkswagon beetles and picnic tables. now he works at MAC at the mall and sometimes at the fashion shows in NY. he told me not to depend on horses for a living. he actually gave me some of the most solid advice about my life i've heard so far. it was refreshing.
i wish someone could help me.