I got this pain in my chest, like a tightness. It’s like I got something to say, some awesome miraculous wonderful life changing crowd pleasing rallying battle cry of something to say. I feel change and stagnation all around me at once. Like the cosmic energies all conspiring in both directions for me.
One is pulling me down.
The other up.
I feel like I’m tearing a bit, not physically, though some days it feels as such…
No, I feel like my vitality wanes and stretches far too thin to be visible. I’m scarce. Transparent.
All those wonderful colors I am known to exude, feel washed out and stretched thin. Watery.
Any words I can say, I’m typing now, but they aren’t the words I need to say.
What is it then? That I need to say. What do I, Harry, need..?
What a fucking question.
LIST TIME:
A job.
Money.
Money.
A place of my own.
Fucking money.
To not be socially inept. (I guess that’s counter productive as far as list making goes let me correct that.)
To be socially FUCKING RADIANT AND AWESOME. i.e. I step into a room and suddenly shit is more awesome.
Money.
It seems like that green paper makes the world go round, as I cannot escape the confines of my home without it. Unless I were to suddenly become homeless or go live in a halfway house where I would transit my white ass all across the phoenix metro area to a phone job I will hate. Solution? Holy shit Harry.
Why not just do that?
Because stepping outside my front door makes me feel like I’m dying.
It’s the world really. No, actually, the world is GREAT AND BEAUTIFUL. Let me correct.
It’s PEOPLE. Fucking people man. They are all lying assholes who will rape every shred of confidence, happiness and comfort; all whilst mind fucking and using and being generally very human (selfish) their way through whomever is in their path.
I’m not so cynical to believe this is how every person must be. Sure, others leave, and maybe even die, but there are some really awesome people out there I’m sure.
It’s just doesn’t feel that way when I’m *IN* it. When I’m *IN” it, all I can think of is how I’m going to get out. Escape. Choking. Can’t breathe. Sweating. Dying. Heart racing. Falling to the floor. Can’t think. Going blind. Get. Me. Out. Of. Here.
^That’s how it feels to just run into another human being for me. Going out for groceries? A fucking nightmare.
I don’t think I need someone or something to prove me wrong or somehow “change” me. I used to think that, there was that one special person or some shit. Naw. I wont romanticize my anxieties and fears.
(I’m smart enough to know what I need to do though.)
HUZZAH NOT EXPECTING THAT WERE YOU?
I need to plunge head fucking first into this world and pillage, mob, thrash, crawl, skip, swim, and charge my way through it HEAD FUCKING ON.
Now I just gotta do it…
I think I’ll stay inside tomorrow.
