Right now, every place I can think of, every place on Earth, is the last place on Earth that I want to be. I feel compressed to within an inch of my life. I feel like there is nothing for me anywhere and nowhere for me to turn. I am hollow and past-tense; I am somewhere on the fault line between “giving up on trying to breathe” and “abstracting myself into a whirlwind of destruction.”
Something is fundamentally wrong with the way I live and the way I make decisions. Something is fundamentally wrong with me. When I review my life, there are no highlights, only things to try to avoid thinking about. I can’t remember the last time I was carefree, the last time I felt full and alive. Was it as far back as the Summer of 2001? The winter of 1994? The spring of 1991, before all of the badness at West High happened?
Was it as far back as 1986, sitting in the open-ended back yard of my parents’ house with a small black dog, watching butterflies and dragonflies waging war across their tiny front?
I only get one life. How can I spend so much of it feeling as though I’m trying maniacally, pitifully, to hold my atoms together in some sort of cohesion from moment to moment, no time to do anything else?
What do I want?
There is no hope for me but to know myself better.
Things about me right now:
– I am homeless.
– I am at best a temp, at worst jobless.
– I have $60,000+ debt, mainly student loans.
– My car is getting old.
– I don’t have a dog or a companion animal of any kind.
– I drink too much.
– I am too old to live with my parents.
– I am too old to live for free with anyone.
– I have worse specimens of these than I used to: computer, car, clothes, body, career, bank account.
– I really, really miss actual winter seasons like happen in Chicago or San Fran or Salt Lake City.
– There is not a single thing I’m looking forward to.
– I’ve lost touch with almost everyone from Chicago.
– You can never go back to your childhood again.
– People who tell you to get over it are heartless and must have hated theirs.
The thing that makes me most unhappy in life right now is that I don’t feel like there’s anyone I can be honest with, that I can be myself with. Every time I edge toward openness with anyone, the reaction I get is so obviously negative that I give up and reinternalize everything.
I need to find some place where I belong, both intellectually and emotionally, because I can’t keep internalizing things forever the way I have been for the last I-don’t-know-how-many-years… but until I find such a place, I can’t just cut loose and “be me” because a person who’s absolutely alone in the world — or worse, has a world full of enemies — is in serious emotional trouble, too.