I like high life better than the real one. VR is better than reality. It hurts less. Bright distractions for a bleak acknowledgement.
I want the real thing. I want something I've never felt. Real love. I want someone who I think is perfect, who thinks I'm pretty great too. I want amazing sex and passion. I want talking of any topic, I want emotional conversations. Real talk. I want to be fucking consumed.
I want you to call me.
Sometimes I wish I had the choices of college laid before me. Sometimes I wish I was back there, small and ignorant but making love to a man in a plaid shirt with a real record playing behind us. With no cares and no responsibility and the ability to do the broken hearts and hurts the future brings.
This hole is so deep, God. I feel like I'm forever crawling upward only to fall even further down in it.
Three posts in one night. Yikes.
A part of me thinks this is what I deserve. A part of me thinks as a young girl I didn't dream because life taught me not to. Instead I read and saw the world through books.
Now I don't really read. I mean the news I guess. I know things, I'm not completely uneducated. But I don't get lost in books like I did growing up.
I feel defeated. Like I might just die alone with no one to care. In a tiny box in Brooklyn. And that is not why I romanticised moving here ha, for that well-read book of Betty Smith's.
I know so many humans feel like me. That I am so common. But I'm so lonely. I want to feel.
I still pray. I'm still grateful. But I'm so very tired.
So I guess this is it: I'm lonely, and I'm not normal.
I'm never going to be dishonest with anyone. But how do I meet someone as I am? Like I love and hate NYC. I love the diversity. Diversity of person, of mind, of being. I might disagree but it turns me on. But the lack of natural beauty? The sheer number of humans? Terrifying. Turn the humans to dogs and I'm in heaven. And again I ask: what do I do with this? Why am I like this?
A lot of the time I feel so fucked up.
Like when I imagined things as a tiny kid this was not it. But I guess I never really idealised the future like other kids. I never saw myself with kids and a family. I wanted those things but I couldn't see them if that makes sense. I was never the girl imagining the Disney Princess life. I didn't really ever idealise things. I was like, well,arriahe looks shitty. Kids can be born a mess.
I love what I do and I'm good at it. More than anything I miss Samson. Beyond that I don't know at this point.
Am I odd?
I want to vanish.
I’m so ashamed.
I want to feel happy. I want to laugh.
I miss Dan. I miss Samson. I miss feeling alive. Now I just feel like I need to put one foot in front of the other. I can’t even cry. I wish the Uber I went to work in crashed and only I was hurt. I’d never wish death on anyone else. I’m just so sick of myself. And all these kids I take care of dying. I’m sick and tired of feeling sick and tired. I want to sleep forever.
I was going to write something pretty about feeling better and brighter. Yesterday I did despite everything.
I still do mostly. I try to stick to being grateful, to the joy of my Samson. Life without him still seems like it’s lacking color, like a major adjustment. Like maybe for the rest of my life my eyes will function only as his did and that will be okay. Because at least I had color for twelve years.
I don’t know about humans still. I know I need to work on me before I form human attachments. And that Buddhism is so beautiful but I would make for the worst Buddhist because I form attachment and look at the past and I don’t know how to stop. I want to be better. I want to be more than I am. Music continues to be my everything, my healing. And I continue to also be grateful for hearing and for the beauty of sound and movement.
