all the worst advice in the world

therapy.
seriously?
and would i consider this?

how much of what i said was the truth? not the truth as i see it; it was all that - but the truth as it is. the truth alone by itself entirely. if i were to remove it from all the conversations i've had with all the people i've had them with, what would remain that was true? was it always this complicated?

infatuation.
this word, i roll it around in my head, and taste the shape of it, and i wonder - is that true? is it a true word, is it a whole word, is it what i have been reduced to? am i infatuated? addicted? obsessed? to the exclusion of all else? from the outside it might seem that way, but surely the outside is the only place to look from if you want any perspective at all...

question - how does one tell if happy is wrong?
by going to therapy?
good lord, that is a horrible thought.

don't let the darkness

Real baby steps.
One cannot do it alone, see? So obvious.

feathers on my breath

i find myself running away, escaping, playing metaphorical video games in parents' hypothetical basements. i flee from pain and responsibility by drowning myself in fictitious worlds that i do not belong to and is this really what i need to be doing with my life?
"there is nothing in life that says you must live up to your full potential."
i have been lying, to others and myself, in small ways and big ways and every way possible. and all the truths i can bear to talk about are those which are unimportant and trivial and still manage to affect me more than anything else. and when i get the chance to make things right all i do is try to find somebody else who will listen to my sob-stories and help me make sense of them.
i need to stop living life one day at a time - it makes no sense. i don't care if i die tomorrow, one day at a time is killing me right now. i fear i try to drown my imperfections in imaginary worlds, i fear i will never stop, i fear i will never grow up and learn to take responsibility for the things i do, to myself and to others.

i am
so afraid
"you are so young, t."

i worry that i will never learn to handle anything on my own, that i will always turn to cry on shoulders: real, metaphorical, virtual. i fear i will always attempt to lose myself because i cannot bear to live in the real world where real people live. i see so much too much so many details - and i do so little... perhaps the point is not to take each event and squeeze every drop of wisdom and perspective it has to offer? perhaps the point is to keep looking at the big pictures. big pictures that i seem to keep missing, constantly consistently.

i do not worry about the big things. i shut them out of my head like so many flies that i think i believe will eventually die or just go away. i trust so much to the inner workings of the universe, to fate, to a grand plan. more than i realize.
why, when did i turn into such a fatalist?
i want to live my life devoid of the ability (the need) to see a story in every narrative. i want to live my life ordinary, and dull, and unsure. i want to live my life trying so hard that it makes me happy and sad and exhausted and exhilarated - so why can't i?

i want to be able to have problems that i might be afraid i won't be able to handle alone and still be able to tell people i will be fine - and mean it, really truly mean it, without wanting desperately to have someone ask me how i am and how i'm doing and if i can manage and are you going to be okay?. i want to be able to fool myself into needing nobody. i want to able to not need to fool myself. someday i will cry over something and not feel the need to place it outside myself as a spectacle, as a work of art for others to identify and sympathize with.
is this what growing up is about? i wonder. is it when you stop turning to others to help you deal with yourself? is this a good thing?

someday i hope to find i have turned an old woman.

i must stop running.
i must stop.
i want the imagination to go away.

good lord

things get worse and worse, worse and worse. i'm not regretting, at all, at all - it was the right thing to do, surely? only. oh, dear oh dear i'm losing my mind.
self-centred, much, dear lonely teechild? let it be, it's your song; someone will cone along. sometime.

teh innernets

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Very good.
:)

friggin midnight alarms

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah
aaaaaaaaah

:(