i don't actually know why i just wrote that.
so anyway, it's a normal life for me.
apparently i have some weird exhaustion issue where walking up a set of stairs makes me out of breath, waking up in the morning seems absurd, and all i want to do all day is sit. or die. and i don't want to be all dramatic when i say i think about dying a lot, and how i could die. because i don't really want to die. i mean if i have to, im ready. but it pops up in my thoughts a lot.
all the while haunted with a sense of ineffectiveness and purposelessness.
i also have a lot of school to finish, most of it US history. which is boring in large amounts. plus je vais enseigner une classe du francais cette annee aux petits au co-op et il faut que je la prepare. mais pas encore. parce qu'il y a beaucoup de temps...ouais. je connais, je connais. tais-toi, moi-meme.
i also have a pervading sense of loneliness. and whenever i try to explain this to my friends, they either get insulted (which is absurd) or they do not understand. i guess we're all alone in a sense. but i'm just very sick of the people in my life in general. which i do not mean offensively. it's just, i'm a lee woman, i was built to roam, to be chased by wanderlust all my days. staying in areas for a while is strange. "moving on" is my motto.
new jersey is the lee antonym.
and so are its people.
i need to get OUT. i need to be somewhere other than here.
or at least my mind and heart do.
i talk about college as if i'm going there in 2 weeks. i wish i was. i'm not.
i know what this is. last year, most of you know what happened last year after camp. real bad crash.
so does God.
i feel like i listen a lot. and then when i talk i feel guilty, like "i should not be holding up this conversation. i should be nice and listen because this person needs me to be there for them." then people expect that from me. i am a shoulder to cry on, an ear to talk to, and a gut to punch. that is who i am to people because i will take it. because i will forgive. not because i am good, but because my mind can erase it, mostly. some bitterness grows up in me sometimes but i kill it.
[this is me not killing it.]
i am bitter. i am used. i am open about how i feel. maybe now i can confront this. i don't know.
and then all of this rises up in me and i explode and it's unexpected. i feel angry.
and anyone who knows me knows that my solution for issues is to forget, to run away. to move on.
i have nowhere and no one to run to though.
apart from having God and my mother, i do not have a friend that is wiser than me.
this is a problem.
i am very close with my mother, but i need someone a few years older than me that i can talk to. or someone the same place as me. [thank you, suzanna.]
90% of the people i would list as my friends are at least a year and a half younger than me.
this is ok. i'm their mommish figure, the one that texts them to make sure they're not pmsing too bad, the one that runs the google and facebook background check on their boyfriends. the one with the brass knuckles to kill said boyfriends when they act like typical 14 year old boys: kind of stupid. the one that's been through it already, and can say, no you're not the only one that ever felt this way. you're ok, you're ok.
but when you are mother of all and friend of none, you pretty much shrivel up into a spiritual prune because there is no one else being a mentor to you.
i don't want to sound like i'm on a pedestal. there is nothing i have done to make me this way. through a series of natural, supernatural, wonderful, absolutely hellish warfare, heartache, growth, and pruning, i am old.
suddenly i left the rest of a lot of people behind.
when i talk, people sometimes do try to listen. but i think a lot of what i say doesn't make sense because they haven't gone through or understood what i am/do.
this post probably doesn't make any sense.
i've been avoiding social stuff recently. weird for me i know. the butterfly had its wings emotionally clipped i suppose. just realizing that in the book of eternity, i am not even in the same chapter as anyone else i know. whether im ahead or behind, whatever. all i know is i am alone.
i mean, i have to amend that every time i say it. I have God. and He listens to me. he smiles at my poetry and holds me when i cry. he's got my hand and he's writing my chapter. and while i talk to him through the day i do not feel alone in my soul. and even writing that is like wrapping myself with a big quilt on a cold night.
but i am still bothered to the point of garble-crying-screaming into my pillow at 4am wondering why i can't be happy, why i can't like where how what i am, wondering why it isn't good enough for me.
i have dreams of throwing parties and nobody comes. over and over again. it's very strange. because i probably would have a lot of people come to a party. but still. and the lights turn off and they say cmon joanna nobodys coming you have to go home. but i dont know where home is. and then i wake up.
i just wish i could be satisfied.
i'm sorry this was so long. i actually was going to journal this, but i hate my new journal. and i spent 10 dollars on it so i feel obligated to write in it but it hurts my wrist. plus writing longhand makes me tired. so i put it here.