anxiety
tons of it, all at once, all right now--i don't know where it's coming from, but feel like maybe writing through it could help . . . in public; in pseudo-public since, really, no-one reads this fucking thing.
maybe that's it . . . maybe that's part of it, being acutely aware that, regardless of my dreams and wishes, less than two-dozen people have even really pretended to give a shit about anything i've made in years and years. and that's all i've done in years--is write a couple things, here and there. i don't work, i don't help out with the community or anything . . . i just lock myself in my room for most of the day, hopefully finding about four hours a week to spend making something that no-one else can make.
that no-one else wants . . . and that's it, too, this awareness, or maybe mistrust is more accurate, that the people around me really don't care, either--or, at least not in the way i--right now desperately--want them to. no-one else is running after unrealistic dreams, no-one else is pursuing deep thoughts into rooms rarely unlocked . . . it's this loneliness, and this perception that this loneliness is unnecessary, and it's being so close and so far, at once, from all of my goals.
i am chewing on a shirt right now--it's one of the few mechanical habits i've noticed in myself to deal with stress: chewing on things. i refuse to drink, i refuse (and wouldn't even know where to look for) drugs, i refuse tobacco and prostitutes and god. i face things with my own faculties, with my own will--i try, always, to stare down my problems face-to-face, to pierce right into the heart of my fears, my insecurities, so i can become a stronger, an ever-more rounded person.
and i look around, and it looks like i am alone in my vision--in my need to move forward, in my drive to constantly improve my situations by asking questions. that's what i want to see more people doing: asking questions--because i ask so much, and . . .
and shit has been too strange, lately . . . too chaotic, for once.
i want, most desperately of all, to find a way to a universe where i could be with the person i most admire right now . . .
(and delusional fantasies don't count.)
maybe that's it . . . maybe that's part of it, being acutely aware that, regardless of my dreams and wishes, less than two-dozen people have even really pretended to give a shit about anything i've made in years and years. and that's all i've done in years--is write a couple things, here and there. i don't work, i don't help out with the community or anything . . . i just lock myself in my room for most of the day, hopefully finding about four hours a week to spend making something that no-one else can make.
that no-one else wants . . . and that's it, too, this awareness, or maybe mistrust is more accurate, that the people around me really don't care, either--or, at least not in the way i--right now desperately--want them to. no-one else is running after unrealistic dreams, no-one else is pursuing deep thoughts into rooms rarely unlocked . . . it's this loneliness, and this perception that this loneliness is unnecessary, and it's being so close and so far, at once, from all of my goals.
i am chewing on a shirt right now--it's one of the few mechanical habits i've noticed in myself to deal with stress: chewing on things. i refuse to drink, i refuse (and wouldn't even know where to look for) drugs, i refuse tobacco and prostitutes and god. i face things with my own faculties, with my own will--i try, always, to stare down my problems face-to-face, to pierce right into the heart of my fears, my insecurities, so i can become a stronger, an ever-more rounded person.
and i look around, and it looks like i am alone in my vision--in my need to move forward, in my drive to constantly improve my situations by asking questions. that's what i want to see more people doing: asking questions--because i ask so much, and . . .
and shit has been too strange, lately . . . too chaotic, for once.
i want, most desperately of all, to find a way to a universe where i could be with the person i most admire right now . . .
(and delusional fantasies don't count.)
posted by SJ at 2/18/2008 11:00:00 PM
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