I don’t even know where to start this one. Oh, wait, I know – I hate people. There, done, that’s a nice way to kick this off.
No. That’s unfair. That’s not the issue here, and as it is it’s generally been less true here than it usually is. As for the real issue…
I don’t know.
That’s the big problem – I don’t know. I don’t know what it is that I want, that I don’t, that I’m looking for, that I’m running from. I just can’t tell anymore, and there’s no way for me to separate them. Like people. I can’t tell if I don’t want to be around people, if I dislike them that much, or if I really do want to see them, hear them, talk to them, know them… and if that’s the case, why don’t I? Fear? I’m afraid of the people I know I like, but what about the others? And is that fear or something else? Too many questions, not enough answers.
I feel… restless every night. At least this I’m sure of. What I don’t know yet is how to handle it. I know for a fact its not real parties. Even chilling however many doors down isn’t quite enough, and I don’t know what’s missing from that. Movement? Solidity?
I don’t know. Walking again, but where to?
Drinking brings disjointedness, makes me confrontational enough to take a look at myself. I don’t know whether or not it helps my writing, though.
I need privacy, I need space, I need a bed in the middle of the room where I can lay down and stare at the ceiling and people can still see me. Observed privacy, what’s the point? I want people to break my privacy by choice, not by necessity. Why don’t I do it first? Not quite fear of rejection, more Jim Henson syndrome – I don’t want to bother anyone on my account. I have too many problems based on that one idea. And I’m afraid of being forgotten. That’s the big one. I’m afraid that once destination has been reached, the partnership is over. All the promises of fun and good time turn into a point towards something and the back of a friend disappearing into the crowd, leaving me alone with everything I never wanted. Taken and left, is the thing.