January 11, 2010

We all want to leave. We all want to grow up too fast and get away from everything that reminds us of the children we can no longer be. Yet sometimes it seems that while everyone is running away from the receeding tide, I'm madly chasing after it. I know I can't change things. I'm not even sure that I'd know how to change them even if I could; but I feel like I've been jipped. I feel like this life still owes me something. Every day I wake up, I can't help but be a little more bitter about things; and I'm trying, I'm trying so very hard, to undo this and work against it. I am always double checking myself, making sure I'm keeping to my borders, and yet I'm losing this battle. The worst part is, I don't even know who/what I'm battling. It's like swinging angry fists at the wind; it's getting to be nothing but a waste of energy. I want to be a poet but I don't know how to do this. I'm not going to be approached out of the blue and offered a paying job as a writer. I want to fucking find myself already. Growing up is an awful lot like a Chinese finger trap. The harder I pull to break away from things, the more impossible it becomes to shake them. I've been having nightmares for a whole month now. Death is always present in them. The dead seem to be trying to tell me about something; but I'm not Joseph, I don't have a technicolor dreamcoat, and at this point I'm not even sure if there's anything left of me that is worth saving. I have no idea what to do about it. I have not the slightest clue about where to go from here. I know that here isn't where I want to be, but something tells me there isn't it either. My arms are tired. They hurt from constantly pulling at the tug-of-war rope, from holding my weight, and from cradling my heavy heart. I am tired. I am just so tired of it all.