I'm cleaning out the cob webs and throwing away the beer bottles. I haven't been in my room for weeks. My clothes are still in bags or in my clean clothes basket. My chair is filled with clean unfolded towels and I have dishes lining the wall under the window. (Gross. No food on them though...) I took out my recycling and it took up more space than I had realized... instantly my room got quite cleaner.
I have been living in filth and posing as a person I've hidden in the dust. I quite literally climbed out of the rubble of my existence when I got back from Chicago. Clawing out of the earth like a zombie and gritting my teeth hungrily at the idea of brains. I shambled back into my old life and fell right back into the corporate line of black and gray. I hate myself for it. I hate that I came back to North Carolina although Chicago was so big, so fucking big. I already have an offer of where to live... I just have to tell them when I will arrive. I'm terrified. I thought I would want to, but I'm on the fence.... with the post so far up my ass I can barely move.
I'm having emotional girl problems. Now, don't get me wrong-- I had worked out my "Woe is me, I need a girlfriend. I need one NOW!" kind of drama. I had solved that. I had stopped talking to everyone. For days. Maybe three whole days to be exact. Then I met... her. She breezed into my life and quickly our lives became so in-tangled it took me spending 2 days on a train and 4 days in Chicago to realize we had managed to lose ourselves within ourselves in just a short couple weeks we had before my trip.
Talk about a punch in the gut.
I got something just to have it ripped out from under me again. Then I came home to a bunch of bullshit. Bullshit that was meant to make me feel better but only made me feel worse. Surface problems. Surface problems. Everything is resting on the already angry tides. I'm exhausted on the subject but it doesn't seem to be going away. At this point I'm unsure of wanting to be desired in a relationship. Sex came easier when I was single.... the sex also left in the morning and was replaced by someone new before the sun touched the horizon again. Living was easy but I craved more. Now I have more and I'm starting to think I am better without it.
So much drama. So many other girls. My past haunts me.... haunts her. But our pasts are the same, so why the fuck does it matter? Paranoia. Paranoia. It's all that's left when you want someone so bad it hurts. You crave their affection more than their milky center.
In Chicago I visited like I lived there. Went to their local dive bar, ate at their favorite pizza place... and took the taxi to the pier because we were already too drunk to drive. Took the bus and the subway back home because we didn't want to spend that much money on a taxi to get back home. I walked. I partied. I barely remember most of my last night. I woke up in pajama pants, my shirt from the night previous and still wearing my bra. I was face down and laying sideways on my air mattress and could tell from my sore muscles I hadn't moved since I had collapsed hours before. I saw Lincoln Park and another park I can't seem to remember the name of but had huge glass towers of images being played like on a big screen... and it was a fountain that little kids ran around in half naked on blistering hot days. I felt like I was an blood cell of the city, funneling through the vein to a main artery and hoping one day to reach the heart just to start my cycle over again.
I'm what people go to when everything/everyone else has failed them. I show them the hope for humanity and prepare them for their next step in life... for their next relationship... for their next thing that isn't me. That sounds emo, I know it does... but I can't help but feel that way. I'm starting to just adjust to it. Maybe I should move to Chicago. It's not exactly running away from something when you're in the pursuit of finding something, right? I need to start selling stuff. Selling stuff, saving money and paying off this damned computer. Once I pay off this damned computer I won't be in debt anymore and can get the hell out of this transitional town.
On a side note (that isn't so depressing) I "performed" for the first time in years last night. I read something I wrote and shook with nerves. I heard a few "Hmm"s and "O shit"s when I read... so I think I did pretty okay. It makes me want to practice some of my stuff and really put on a show. Claim my ground and get that high of performing again. I've got enough I want to say and be heard. I will do it.
Victory will be mine.