Cleaning it up. Starting over. Making amends.

This is going to be the longest several months ever. I can just feel it. Tying up the loose ends of my past, reconnecting and accepting failure and success in this experience in Kansas City. I don't feel that I am jumping the gun this time, but that my insides are knowingly going somewhere else.

Life is just too short otherwise. I don't have much to prove anymore. I felt drowned in it all when I got back in Kansas City last night. The ride back was clogged with traffic. It took us an hour to sludge through the short span of highway from Columbia to a nearby small town. The only thing I can think about is May and trying to keep myself afloat with the end of this rope for the rest of the time here. But the only thing that's going to get me through it is confidence and finding it in myself to not fall into the same old traps of my life. I can choose to be a different person and that's what I'm going to do. Who gives a shit otherwise? It's about being myself. I've been jailing myself in a kind of anger I haven't experienced since I was a teenager. And you know, there was a reason for it. I could be angry for the rest of my life and it would be justified. But why bother?

I may end up somewhere completely different than expected in a year and I don't mind that one bit. As long as it isn't here. I've learned from my mistakes and now I am willing to start fresh and where I wanted to start from the beginning. Apparently I wasn't there yet.

There will be negativity around me at any given point during the day. It's up to me to deal with it. The universe doesn't give a damn about anyone. There's no such thing as karma in the chaotic universe but I do what I can do to make it better. Now I'm feeling more like myself. I'm not shackled to anything or anyone if I don't want to be. I'm not shackled to old perceptions and destructive beliefs. I'm not shackled to perfection when I don't want to be. Yep, when I don't want to be. If I have food, shelter and love then I'm not shackled to anything else. If I'm not, well that's for another entry. That's another subject.

Mmm. It feels good to shed skin.

This weekend I am going to visit a boy, and see a couple shows. To be honest, I'm terrified. I'm absolutely terrified. I'm excited too. But terrified. Excited/terrified. There is a reason for this feeling but I am going to keep it to myself for the rest of my existence. I don't even think I can put words to it. I hate the way that I feel whenever I really like someone and I am counting every single step that I make, watching it carefully and afraid of my own words. I don't trust a soul, either. I'm not sure how long it's going to take me to trust him. I'm in the perpetual state of bolt at any moment. bolt. bolt. bolt at any moment you see... And I'm working extremely hard to control myself at every moment and remember how long I have been waiting for many of these things to happen. It doesn't seem real at all. I could run for the rest of my life if I wanted but at the end of the day I'd still feel this way.

It seems so unreal to me and it makes it seem as if I should bolt. I am supposed to be unhappy, right? I am supposed to feel like I'm acting, right? I never realized how hard it was to not act. To simply be. To not feel the urge to lie about anything in order to mask the truth of who I am. I hate feeling like I must be tougher than I am. Or quieter than I am. I don't like any of it, but I do it anyway because I was told from a young age to do just that. It's the one unique psychological aspect of my childhood. (Paired with an autistic twin brother whose developmental concerns outweigh yours and you'll see two parents just trying to get by and teaching us both the same ways to behave. Silent yourself. Center yourself. Meditate at every moment. Think before you speak.)

I see friends doing better than me and I think if only I were to do what they are doing. But really, how does that benefit me? Only me. I am thinking about this now because of the amount of courage it has taken me to reach this point. To get on the bus. To confront these feelings. To walk out of this shell of protection. To drop perceptions that weren't based on anything substantial. It's making me rethink everything I want to do with my life. Part of me doesn't care anymore. Part of me does care. Part of me cares but isn't sure if it's right anymore. I do not know.

It hurts but I am doing it. I am accepting how crazy I really am and how I really feel. I've done, said and thought things the past couple of months that I forgot were even still there. And it keeps happening. Deeper. deeper.

How is something so beautiful have to be so terrifying for me?

Here is a Blue's form poem I have attempted for a class. The finished product reminds me of all of the lyrics I wrote in high school, for no music at all, and no particular voice. I can't say that I am necessarily proud of the unedited finished product but it was an interesting process and has been banging my poor little brain for the entire labor day weekend.

Your Red Sheets are in Kansas City

There was a train to Kansas City
and it was time for me to ride home
Well, there was a train to Kansas City
and it was time for me to ride home
I slunk on the train and left you, baby
in the morning window shine

Well, sheets hung to block the sunrise
from your drunken idle bed
Well, sheets hung to block the sunrise
from your drunken idle bed
I wrapped my body in your red sheets, baby
and floated out your door

O, the birds flew for Kansas City
and you were still motionless
O, the birds flew for Kansas City
and your blue eyes are motionless

Now I'm back in Kansas City
and my walk, a robotic haul
Now I'm back in Kansas City
and my walk, a robotic haul
All I see is myself
missing
your red sheets in the dark

Present questions:

How does one live with the knowledge that there is no god and no free will?
How does one live with the knowledge that there is no purpose?
How can one sustain an existence, or a chosen set of values when this is true?
How does one cope with the nihilism that is part of the discovery of the fact that we are only floating dust and nothing more, and that there is no choice and nothing that makes the choice for us?

I'm currently trying to write a blues poem but feel so enveloped in the blues that it's a bit hard to actually write anything at all (blues poem is actually blues lyrics, there is no difference).

Sometimes I wonder if I have the right to feel deeply disturbed but then I realize how privileged I am, even under all of this. I'm not sure where to stand. Some say I do not need the right, I can feel how I want. I am conscious of the complications of things. But getting through the school and work week has become almost unbearable for me. Socializing has become unbearable. Going into my new job has been unbearable, and the store hasn't even opened yet. I really hope this fades.

I guess when my brother starts having seizures again, my dad is diagnosed with a lifelong illness, my apartment catches on fire and I receive lung problems, my apartment becomes infested with fleas and causes my cat's hair to fall out, my unfortunate apartment events lead me to have to move unexpectedly a week before classes start, my adviser tells me I am graduating a semester late, my two aunts and grandpa are dying and I receive emails about how one of them is suffering immensely and her skin is disintegrating, my psychological issues due to my ex boyfriend become unbearable and my realization that I truly hate Kansas City and need to start working on leaving comes to full fruition... well you know, it causes a person to start to lose their mind. Not to mention with added stresses of having to deal with another semester of classes I do not like and a new job. It seems that while many aspects of my life have improved since the mutual breakup with my ex and I back in January, most of everything else has gotten worse. I have more genuine support but an immense load of new problems to deal with. This isn't just "responsibilities" and "adult life" this is something different.

Needless to say, I am pretty certain that I am testing myself at this point. I am checking in to see how much I can handle as life starts to become a little more chaotic. How many responsibilities do I really care about? What do I really value here? What are my actual priorities here? I just know that as every single week goes by I am not the same person I was before. I have to dig into reserves that weren't there before. I am certain that when something breaks and someone dies or I become seriously injured, I am unsure of I will be stable enough to continue any of what I am doing right now. Sometimes I crave for something to happen just so I can have an excuse to lay it all to rest and start over. Is that too morbid? It's something I am not ashamed of. But I am certain that due to the karma I have accrued due to making a line of bad choices I will have to live through this like every other working person. I will have to endure it until I'm ready to throw it up for the rest of my life. At least I will be guaranteed not to make the same mistake again. I know that if I try to smile my way through it, and quit throwing temper tantrums, I will receive some kind of reason for the entire experience even if it is for one minute, one measly little moment on the scale of my life.

As I do know, there is nothing important about me. There is nothing about me that's different. I'm just a teensy bit of dust in a chaotic, not so planned out universe. There is no god and there is no free will. Science is telling us that now. There is none of it. There is no intention. There is nothing but things. This isn't suicide, it's just reality. Knowing this, I believe in nothing but whatever is rumbling in my heart somewhere. I'm just going to start listening to it, so this doesn't happen again. Just a heart and this energy that is keeping me alive. I believe in what I can see and feel in my immediate experience, because without it, I would be dead. Despite the lack of free will, I choose to do it instead because I have to survive.

This can't fucking sustain itself. It can't. I'm moving to Chicago. I'm closing my eyes and will wake up two years from now with the sun rising through my window and two cats by my side and the realization that all of this was not for nothing. I hope.