I’m tired of feeling so much that it makes me feel like I’m feeling nothing. I’m tired of it. This has been going on for at least two months, at some degree or another. I’m tired of not being able to say anything because I don’t know what to say because I don’t know how I’m feeling. I’m tired of not being able to write anything because I don’t know what to say about the feelings that I’m not feeling.

My head is so confusing and if I can’t even get a grasp on it, I don’t know who will.

And just the fact that, right now, at this very moment, I don’t even know what to write about feeling like I can’t write about feeling like I can’t speak about the feelings that I’m not feeling just makes everything worse. I want a release, because I feel like I’m going to explode from Lord knows what. I feel like I’m on the brink of something foreign and I don’t even know what it is. I feel like I’m being blocked by something large and invisible and I can’t see it or feel it. And because I can’t see it or feel it, I can’t break it down. It’s just there and it won’t budge, and I’m desperate for someone to be willing to help me break it down, but who is going to break down something that I can’t even explain? Maybe I just need to find someone who can see the wall and who can feel it and someone who has the ability to push it down that I lack. But if that’ll even happen in this lifetime is quite debatable.

I feel bound by mental censorship. I feel constrained by emotions I can’t explain. I want more, but I don’t know what more I want. And if I did or do, I don’t know if I even have the ability to express it because something, somewhere—in my head or outside of it—is telling me to hush. Don’t say it, it’s saying, because there’s consequences. Don’t say it, because you’re dressed to impress. Dressed in the robes of concealment. And if you change outfits now, you just can’t be sure who’s going to stay around to see the rest of your wardrobe. You’ve grasped onto what you’ve earned up to this point, and right now, it’s good enough. Good enough, but not everything you want. You are so unsatisfied. But don’t say it, or what’s “good enough” can very well disappear. Don’t say it, because clearly, their emotions are more valuable to you than your own. So don’t say it.

You are so unsatisfied.

And here I am, transforming my written words into second person “you” form to try to grasp what I’m feeling. To try to psychoanalyze myself and shove my face into realizations that I won’t realize. Because I tell myself that worked last time and the time before that and the time before that too, but if it did, I can’t be sure of.

I feel so incredibly incomplete and like I’m constantly waiting for something (or someone). Maybe I’ll die old in a wedding dress. Maybe I’ll write to someone who was never there. Maybe I’ll put faith into things I’ve never touched. But right now, I’m biting my nails in concentration on what I can’t concentrate on. And maybe my mom will ask me if I’m happy and maybe I’ll say yes but maybe I’ll be lying. Because I’m always happy on the surface, and if I try, things are okay. Things are usually okay. Actually, things are always okay. I’m perfectly fine. But do I want to be just fine? No, not necessarily. I want to be great. And maybe that’s greed and maybe that’s selfishness for wanting to express selflessness, but I can’t deny this metaphorical hand that’s constantly reaching and grabbing for something that’s not there. Like a baby kneading its helpless fists into the air for a bottle from a mother who’s in another room. And I can’t deny this weight I feel in the pit of my chest and the clawing I feel behind my eyes that feels like a balloon constantly being filled with water, more and more, flowing and ever-flowing, until the latex of the balloon stresses against its contents and thins so greatly over what its holding that soon, sometime soon, it’s going to be forced to pop. And sometimes the weight that I feel pops. I’ve felt it pop. I’ve felt the fury of all the contents releasing at once, and I don’t like it. And I can avoid it by turning the water down and trying to not take things in excess, but I know it builds. I know it’s there. And I can’t deny it.

And here I am writing to an audience that’s not there. I couldn’t tell anyone, or myself, how many people will end up reading this in its entirety. One, maybe two, but chances are not enough to make me feel as censored and constricted as I do now. So incredibly afraid to spill what I’m really feeling in fear of some false judgment that may not even present itself to me. The weight isn’t lifting, because what’s holding the weight isn’t being expressed. I could write this in a silly journal I keep in my bookshelf where no eyes will read, where no minds will feast their judgment, but that won’t help either. Because I want to share what I’m feeling. Because I’m tired of holding it in. But it’s an incredibly wicked paradox that binds me and that makes the weight forever heavy because it’s like this: I want to say what I’m feeling to an outside source, but what I’m feeling involves things that I can’t tell people. And these things that I can’t necessarily tell people are the things that I want to express. So what am I supposed to do?

I want someone to ask me, “How are you?” and mean it. No. I want you to ask me how I am. I want you to inquire. But I know you won’t. Yet I keep grasping onto the ideal that you will. Therefore, I keep waiting. My entire being is an endless paradox.

Maybe I’ll die old in a wedding dress.

And Lord knows it doesn’t help that I recently discovered that Libras (example: me) are the sign of partnership. That, astrologically, Libras are on this earth for someone else. For selflessness. And of course it all makes sense, and of course it all comes together, because I’m ever-so-willing to express this selflessness that I know I have bottled up among other things. And of course it expresses this unmovable and gnawing sense of waiting that I have and of course it explains why I feel so incomplete. But I don’t want to admit that it does. Because I can change it. Just because one or two or a million astrology books tell me that I’m astrologically made to devote my life to falling in love doesn’t mean that I have to believe it.

But do I? Of course I fucking do. I believe it with every single fiber of my being.

So maybe that’s why I feel so unsatisfied and so desperate for this more-than-okay feeling that I’m simply just imagining. Because I’ve never felt what it feels like to be in love and have the feeling be mutual with another person. I’ve felt the selflessness and I’ve felt the love, but I’ve never felt the reciprocal. And maybe that reciprocal is what will make me feel more-than-okay. I’ve learned to be happy on my own my whole life. But like I said, this happiness is “perfectly fine”. But I’m so, incredibly, completely, absolutely, ridiculously tired of fine.

So maybe that’s what will make me feel the greatness I imagine, but maybe it’s not. Because I know that I have the power to feel this greatness by myself. With effort, I can transform these dependent thoughts of desperation into believing that I don’t need to fall into this popular little trap called love. I have the ability. Everyone has the ability to change their thoughts and their beliefs. But as much as these thoughts and these beliefs pain people—myself included, obviously—we hold onto them. We obviously hate them and we obviously don’t want to rely on them. But we keep a firm grasp onto what we can get rid of because that’s what makes us who we are. Maybe it’s a subconscious feel of pride as to what molds us into who we are, and maybe it’s not. But if we all have the power to change these thoughts that have scarred themselves into our psyche, but we don’t, then that means something. We’re all holding onto something, for some reason. Maybe we’ll all die old in wedding dresses.

How pathetic it is of me to constantly have my personal ramblings circle and spiral back to the subject of love. Is that really all I want? Is that really all I’m desperate for? Is that really the only thing that’s constricting me?

Yes. Yeah it is, damn it.

I have the power to let go of this, but I absolutely know that I won’t. Because I don’t want to. I know that one day, whether it’s tomorrow or fifty years from now, I’ll find love. Because I deserve it, just like everyone else does. As much as it feels like it at times, I know the universe wouldn’t be so cruel as to block the wicked and magical thing that is love from me my entire life. As much as it feels like at times. It definitely does. Fuckin’ universe.

So I guess all I have to do now is accept this. Accept that I won’t feel the greatest to my subconscious abilities until I find someone who is eager enough to help me get there. How desperate of me. How petty of me. How naive and pathetic and 1950’s housewife of me. But that’s how it is, and I just have to accept it. “Is your cucumber bitter? Throw it away.” And I’ll just try to move on.

Written 17 August 2010

It was a quick moment but it was the kind of moment where Sweet Disposition started playing on my stereo, there was a packing bin filled on my bed, trash and useless items were scattered all over my floor, and my once-decorated bed, bookcases, and desk were bare and dusty. I went to go shut my door so my mom wouldn’t see my eyes tearing up, but at that moment, she came out of her room and entered mine, about to ask me what else I needed to pack. And I turned towards her, walked with my head down, and hugged her. And we both started crying.

But I didn’t let everything out. Because I don’t want to fall apart just yet.

Written 1 August 2010

I don’t like the Jersey Shore and I don’t like how unnatural orange skin is now considered pretty to a lot of people. I don’t like Justin Bieber and I don’t like seeing videos of little girls running after him like a mob, but at the same time I like watching videos from the 60’s of girls chasing after The Beatles. I don’t care for Lady Gaga hardly at all, but I’m trying to because I know that she’s going to be around for a lot longer and when people look back at 2009 and 2010 one of the key points of those years will probably be her. I don’t like autotune and I don’t like most popular music these days on the radio. I don’t like how some “musical artist” can take a recycled beat and have an autotuned recording of their voice slapped over it and it’s in the Billboard Top 20 while good music with meaningful lyrics, thoughtful music, and a raw voice can be ignored and shoved aside as “not good enough.” I don’t like how the world is slowly getting more and more desensitized to vulgarity and thirteen year-olds are getting pregnant, and skirts are getting shorter and shirts are getting lower on girls at an age when all I cared about was dolls and recess. I don’t like how a lot of kids these days don’t own a single book, but know how to work an iPhone better than I do. I don’t like the Kindle and I don’t like the Nook and I don’t like the iPad and I don’t like anything that takes away the simple pleasure of holding hundreds of pieces of paper binded together between two covers, being able to flip the page with your fingers and put a bookmark in it for later. I don’t like too much technology and I don’t like how dependent we are on it. And I don’t like thinking about how much worse this is all going to be in ten years.

But I do like the useful aspects of technology and I do like Tumblr and how helpful the internet can be at times. I like MGMT and I like Vampire Weekend. And I like looking back at the past and seeing how we’ve benefited from it in different ways. I like huge libraries and numerous bookstores and I like how easy it can be to get things that you love and things that are related to things that you love. I like how the internet brings people together and I like how there are still multiple music festivals going on each year. I like how there are still hippies in this world and I like how popular the subject of peace is. I like how reflective some people can be and I like what brings people passion and love and want and need. I like watching people’s faces light up when they hear about something they love and I like hearing about what makes people happy. I like how a lot of young people in my generation understand what is wrong with the world and I like how aware a lot of us are. And I like how there’s still hope for that ominous “ten years from now” because I know that there’s enough of us to make some sort of change.

Written 30 July 2010

Last night I had some very vivid dreams. I’m surprised I remember them so well.

The first one I can remember took place in some field or park. I, along with like thirty other people, were pushing down some fence for some reason. When it fell down, a sinkhole developed in the middle of where it fell and grass grew through it and around it and totally enveloped most of the fence. After we pushed it down, everyone decided to sit around the fence and just hang out. I was with a couple who I guess were some kind of relatives to me, but I never really looked at their faces, and I think they might have actually been some celebrities. I showed them my totem (my MGMT coin) and they told me it was nice like how a relative would.

Cut forward to me and my mom in an elevator. There’s a boy in there also who may have been a year or two younger than I was. But he was cute, and I wouldn’t deny that. My mom and I had just seen some romance movie where this guy chased after this girl after she thought he wouldn’t. Anyway, we were in the elevator and I was looking down and my mom whispered in my ear, “He’s looking at you.” Kind of like she always does in reality. And I got all shy and coy and kind of huddled and smiled against the elevator wall. So my mom and I got out of the elevator and we were walking down a long dark hall to nothing really and suddenly my mom is disappearing and I look back and see the boy. And he just looks at me so I look forward again. Then a few moments later I look back again and he’s chasing after me. Like in the movie. And he said something like, “You didn’t think I wouldn’t pursue you, did you?” So we’re hanging out together and on our first “date” per se in the long dark hall of nothing and I guess my subconscious just couldn’t get over his age because his idea of fun and a good time was like playing with his playset and toy cars. And he was like slowly turning into a child and by the time I realized it he was far younger than he was in the elevator.

Then I’m sitting on a wood floor near some stairs that have morphed off of the long dark hallway. It’s still dark. I was sitting on the floor and I was spinning my totem and it kept falling. Which is what I don’t understand. Because my totem was not supposed to fall but I guess I just really felt like it was reality. And then I guess the setting suddenly morphed into a dream (within a dream) and there was a guy in the next room saying something about he was going to con his way into getting all the money he needs for college tuition. And then I realized that I was in a dream. But I didn’t realize that I was actually dreaming, I realized that I was dreaming in my dream. So I was dreaming of having a lucid dream, but I wasn’t actually having the lucid dream. That was just so incredible to me. But anyway, I realized I was dreaming and so I spun my coin and it kept spinning and since I knew I was dreaming, I knew I could morph and change what this guy was saying and planning since it was my dream. So I did.

I had a dream within a dream. I had a lucid dream within a normal dream. I spun my totem and it fell. My mind is melting.

Written 20 July 2010

I think the reason why I stopped trying to be religious is because of how judgmental the whole idea of religion actually is. Like, “you can’t do so and so because it goes against the word of the Bible and that is wrong and it is a sin and that’s bad, la la la.” I am not a judgmental person. I like the idea of premarital sex. I like homosexuals. I like drugs and I like being rebellious and I like Jesus jokes. I don’t capitalize “god” when I say “oh my god” because I believe that there are plenty of different gods out there that people worship, not just one almighty being. I don’t see what’s so bad about saying “oh my god” and I like to use “Jesus Christ” as an exclamation.

I respect people’s beliefs but I also expect people to respect mine and others. Maybe not necessarily “respect,” because there are always going to be douchebags out there that won’t respect anyone who doesn’t think exactly like they do. But let me believe that we’re going to Venus when we die to have wild parties and orgies all the time, and I’ll let you believe that we go to Heaven or Hell when we die to eternally worship God and Jesus, and we’ll leave it at that.

But I do, however, wish people would stop being so blinded by the light of God to realize that people from different sexual orientations or racial backgrounds or people with different beliefsare not wrong. One idea and lifestyle isn’t the right lifestyle. People will believe and live how they want to live. People will love who they want to love, do what they want to do, and worship what they want to worship, and your little picket signs and door-to-door religion sales aren’t going to change that.

Written 13 July 2010

I’m sitting here on this torn up leather office chair in a quiet kitchen with no sound but the hum of the refrigerator and my dog drinking out of her water bowl. It’s summer. This scenario is usual. But it’s really not something to complain about. I mean, this is going to be the last time for a while that I’ll be able to be this lazy and not have to regret it. I just can’t fathom the fact that in a month and six days, I’ll be in a car again on my way to Reno. And a month and ten days, I’ll be starting my first day of college, probably completely confused out of my mind, probably going to have the butterflies in my lower belly, probably not knowing what to expect even though I feel like I’ve been preparing. I’ve given up on looking for jobs here, because even if I did get a job, I’d only be working for about a month. hospital because that job was pretty much handed to me and I could have taken advantage of it, but instead I kicked it aside. But then I stop regretting it because I’m over it, and time passes, and things happen because they’re supposed to. Even when those things were your doing.

I need to start applying for jobs on campus but it’s just really complicated right now. There is so much to take in and grasp at the same time and I constantly feel like I’m feeling around and flailing my arms trying to catch something. The website where I apply for jobs on campus is filled with jargon that I’ll only get used to over time and over maturity and over independence. And right now, I’m only beginning to gain that.

I feel like a lot of the times I avoid doing anything productive because I just want to milk the easiness while I have it. I just want to soak up the fact that nothing really needs to be done right now. But then I keep putting things off and putting things off and I ruin my eyes and my back and my weight and my posture by staring at computer screens and television screens and illuminated technology all day. But it’s easy. And right now I crave easy. Because life won’t be this easy from here on out.