But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.
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Constant Dreams
Everything I do to myself is my choice, and I expect pain when the reality of a decision not in my best interest sets in. I do these things because I feel that ultimately 99% of the people on this earth are better than me, or try to be good. Therefore their intentions with me are not wholly bad, and if they do use me, I did something to deserve it.
Yet I still feel my world breaking into a thousand pieces...
I am failing math. I am too young too work at the liquor store, layed off before I even began. I have no money, and have to pay off a fee for a blood draw. Cambodia is $2,200... A distant dream, one which I will never attain.
I must face reality. I must quit living in my dreams. Constantly I find myself separated from what is "now." I find myself in the past, fixing situations, going over them again and again, plotting ways to make things right... And then I have to come back to life. A nuisance at best, terrifying at worst. I am in class, but I am back in the hospital. I am doing math, but I am having a swim party for my tenth birthday. I am writing an essay, but I am lying on the floor, hardly breathing, breath reeking of stale vomit and ketones. I am walking to school, but I am captive of a stranger under the night sky, the night the stars didn't offer salvation to my silent pleas for help...
The days roll by, and I have to wonder where they have gone. I only see it on my face, on the calendar. Lingering in time; I do not move with the future, but I put the future in a daydream as it passes.
And somedays, past events of so recent collide with past events of a few years ago. And I break inside. Outwardly of course I show no one, I smile, act the part of nineteen year-old college student... I do not cry. It curls inside my bowels, a poisonous snake of time, and nauseous, tired, unable to concentrate, I crawl under the covers, praying for a dreamless sleep. The only time I do not dream is in sleep.
12:01 AM - Thursday, Mar. 03, 2005
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dying - living
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