frustration

I don’t know what I want to write about anymore. I feel like I have no feelings besides disgust and resentment. Towards myself of course. I’m not happy.

I’m not happy with the direction I’ve taken. I feel like I’ve trapped myself in a dream I had years ago. I wanted to live where happiness could never end. But it does. It ends everywhere I go. There’s that feeling of newness, and I’m always searching for it.

My friends are scarce these days. They’re growing up just as I am. Maybe I grew up too fast. I have a cushy life, a seemingly wonderful husband, a beautiful new home, loving pets, and no boundaries. But now I feel like I can’t escape, I want to feel young again. I want to be married, and still have a free life. But marriage traps you, I love having my husband and our life together. But there are things I want to explore, that I don’t feel I’m allowed to explore, and that is the world.

I want to go places, no where particular, I just want to go. I live a robotic life, and I need a break in the everyday patterns I’ve been tracing for the past year. I just want to leave, I want to go somewhere that’s unfamiliar, and explore what the other people out there do. And quickly come home and get back to my daily routine.

I sit outside and smoke my cigarettes, and I think about my dad. How much I feel like him. I wondered what he would do all this time after burning all of the bridges he’s crossed these 23 years. Now for the past five, he’s been insignificant, with nothing to do but be. I know why he drinks, I know why he sulks, I know why he obsesses. Because there’s nothing else to do.

I’m torn between the life I want to have, and the life I need to have. I want to be happily married, live in this home, have children, and be settled. But I need to be free, to roam around and discover the things I haven’t discovered yet. Small town life has blown past me, city life was a blur, and suburban life has yet to really set in yet. But I want the free open space to be my friend. I want to drive for hours and go nowhere. Look at the scenery and imagine what I’d do in every place that I pass by.

My family is torn apart, mostly because of me. My constant searching for a new thing and my want to hurry up and live has tarnished my family. My brother is grown, moving to the city to have a career and become something. My mom is happily settled into the little life she lives. My father is wasting away. And I made the crack that spread into this epidemic of what’s meant to be. I was ready for a change, after fourteen years of abuse whether it was from myself or not, I made a decision that changed me forever.

I forced my family to become broken, I forced my brother into a dreamers world, I forced my father into depression worse than I believe he had ever suffered before, and I forced my mother into the happy life she lives today. I forced myself into adulthood. Is this the universe’s way of finally making my mom’s life right? By using me as a tool, to put her on the path to a copasetic existence, and that’s just what it is. To anyone else but her of course. Its just copasetic, nothing extraordinary, nothing fragile or breakable, she has a strong, well molded life now. While I’m breaking apart into little pieces over still needing something new.

But what’s new? Nothing is new. I’ve lived it all, at least that’s how I feel. There’s one thing that I haven’t yet lived, and that’s nirvana. Self nirvana. I have never been fully satisfied.

My obsessions and compulsive patterns are wrecking my life. Walking is exhausting to my mind. I’m tired of matching steps, I’m tired of drawing patters, and I’m tired of shuffle stepping to make everything right. And I’m speaking literally here. I don’t mention my obsessive behavior much, because it drives me insane. Matching my steps to the person in front or beside me. Its never ending and I sigh now when I have to shuffle to switch my steps to match another pedestrian’s ahead of me.

I’m exhausted. My mind is constantly reminding itself of the things I’m afraid of. Mostly of food, food I can’t eat. Remember, there’s a difference between “I can’t” and “I won’t”, thats what my dad always told me. Its not that I am refusing to try, it’s that I can’t. I literally can’t even think of trying something I haven’t had before. I still feel as if my eyes will roll back into my head, my body will start rocking back and forth as I hit the floor in convulsions panicking until I’ve killed myself. And yet I still don’t get help. Because I’m scared to be able to try these things… because I won’t.

I’m exhausted just thinking about what I’ll have to avoid tomorrow, I’m exhausted from being lonely in my head. No one understands what happens inside my head, myself included. And it’s lonely up there. I just want someone to understand, and not judge the turmoil that I live everyday.