I am going to ignore talking about my feelings today so I can write about something else.
I've been working on a new project lately, something of a Frankenstein of several different ideas I've had here and there. I've been struck with a period of real creativity as of late.
This is harder than I thought it would be. I'm not going to talk about that.
I'm gonna change my idea. I'm gonna talk about a specific ideation, and leave everything else alone.
I think about how often I've been to Canada. It really is just a quick drive from where I live. I realize, it might be dangerous it give away my location on the internet... but I feel, at this moment, I don't care about that anymore.
I think about driving a lot. I think about paying the toll for the Ambassador Bridge. It would be so easy, to just run away. I could get through customs, I've done it before. Not too difficult. I would start in Windsor, just find what roads go North, and I would drive away. I only need a 200 miles in my tank, I'll be good ahead to head to nowhere. I've driven through Ontario enough times, but the northern provinces, those are new to me. I don't know what Quebec is like. I've never been to Nunavut. I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the indigenous tribes of those territories, I'll be leaving those well alone.
I wouldn't do anything in a locale, though. I won't be doing any tourism, unfortunately. I'll just be driving. If I run out of gas, I'll just buy some more with my reserves. I have enough for one little fill-up. I have enough. I could just drive away. I think about it all the time. I don't want to live up there, I don't want a job up there. I couldn't ingratiate myself within a place like that. Canada has nothing to do with my psychological problems.
Just now my partner gave me a hug. That was good.
It would be so easy. I could dump my phone in the river after crossing over.
Sometimes I wonder where the trains stop. Maybe I could figure that out.
There was another interruption. Moved from the couch to the bed.
Maybe I should ask one of my buddies what I should do. I haven't heard from her in about a year, I only see her on Twitter these days. I've known her for about 8 years now, but they may as well be a stranger to me. I feel like I don't really know her anymore. She's a lot smarter than me, she's like a transcendentalist and everything. She knows about enlightenment and Buddhism and stuff. It used to be every time I tried to talk to her, she's give me an answer that felt like chastisement in my head. Cause she's so much better than me. I think that she's right about everything, I should have never reached out. Last time I saw her in person, she was so busy, so responsible. I felt like I was wasting her time.
I sound like such a whiny, selfish little kid. I haven't grown up at all. Just a little baby, crying over everything.
Sometimes I think about how it feels to be dead. The emotions would be gone, but...
I had another pause. I can't stop crying today. I don't know anything.
When I write these blog posts, I try let the thoughts flow. I don't go back and erase anything, I just proofread. I'm going along slow, writing as I think.
It helps to express the negative things on here, so they don't manifest as part of my actions in the real world.
I guess it's in tune with that idea, that in distress we reveal who we really are. I guess beneath my illusions, I'm not very mature. I'm not very developed, not at all sophisticated or learned. I'm just very scared, very isolated. I feel as if, all I really want, is to be left alone.
Sometimes I choose not to eat, because I feel a certain clarity when my stomach starts to ache. It's a common trait of mental illness, I'm aware of that much. I'm a bit too aware of my vices, I think. I know that I'm not doing okay, and I am trying to improve... but I simply don't have time.
I never have time. Not a single person in my life right now is patient with me. Not a single one wants to give me time, space, to figure anything out. Everybody looks at me as a resource, a tool, an object of convenience. Not a single person cares about the human being beneath this skin. Of course they wouldn't, it's too engendered towards how I was raised. I was raised to live a life of servitude, I was raised to believe that my worth is congruent to how well I can assist others, how much time I give to other people. I was taught to think nothing of myself.
It's why I've been greedy, lately. I've been possessed by disgusting illusions, forgetting my place as an individual. I've started to dream again. I tend to start dreaming again when my mind begins to unravel.
I remember being in the The Towers in 2021. I was mostly on my own in my room, my roommate was usually never home. I would play a lot of video games, I had a particular fondness for Dragon's Dogma.
I remember sometimes I would sit on the floor, and do nothing. I would walk around the hallways, and go nowhere. Sometimes, I would head downtown, and walk with no destination. Stepping around Greektown, trudging along the sidewalk in the financial district. I enjoyed it most when it was raining, when I would get stuck in the cold. Sometimes I would sit on a bench, and hope to die.
Every now and again, I would drive to the street I used to live on, in the East Side. I'd remember riding my bicycle, with training wheels, up the sidewalk. I remember Nana Neighbor saying, "They're growing up so fast!"
I remember everything. I wish I didn't know anything.
I remember back then, in 2021, I would listen to the same song over, and over, and over again.
"I Just Wasn't Made For These Times" by The Beach Boys.
It's a brutally simple song. There's a beautiful hamfistedness to its approach that reminded me of Jack Kirby's comic books. I can hear the strings, I can hear the clarinet. I can hear the theremin. I can hear Brian's voice.
It's not a good song to have in your head too long. It manifests in your thinking as an unshakable truth, it robbed me of needed stability. I would see the hallway to my floor, and it would stretch forth with an unending vertigo when I would stab my feet into the ground an inch forward. Again, and again. My syntax is suffering.
That sentence was bad enough that it knocked me out of the stupor. But yes, Pet Sounds became an obsession of mine in those days. I would sometimes collapse on the floor of my dorm. Sometimes I would get searing migraines, so painful that I couldn't talk or reach for help. I was so trapped in my own body that I would turn to drag as a source of peace. Halloween... it was the best. My bird costume, what a pretty little disguise I made. That was my proudest moment, in all my years. It was the only time I had ever felt pretty back then. I had my bird mask, my green bathrobe, my press on nails, some bargain mascara. It was all I had. As soon as it came off, I was ugly again. I never looked myself in the mirror those days, I'd get nauseous.
I've chosen to highlight my condition at that time of my life, because I can feel myself coming back to that norm. All of those twisted, mongrel-headed habits were characteristic of what I still felt for years was the greatest time of my life.
I've reached highs I never thought I would have in the last year and a half, and I would almost say that very fact has put me in a frenzy.
I'm avoiding my family, and my friends. I was supposed to release my review of my friend's album today, but I am not psychologically equipped to handle that responsibility right now. I was supposed to finish editing the May Day film today, but I just can't do it. I have a job interview tommorow, another step towards becoming a real human being. It's all that I'm ready for, all I can say I'm prepared to do. Because everything else, everything else that makes me who I am... is impossible to fathom at this moment. I cannot face myself. If I were to see the face of any of my friends right now, I would surely scream. I would panic, I would cry, I would have to run away. I feel like I'm surrounded by predators. They didn't do anything to deserve that characterization, but I can't shake this image from my head.
I've been having dreams again. Right about now, I wish they would stop.
This has been very helpful today. I'm glad I was able to write. Now that I've worked out the difficult things, I can behave. I can get on with my life, I can look people in the eyes again. See you next time.
