I’m living in a place where I’m not entirely wanted or appreciated.
I’m broke af, making it difficult to move.
I look at CL ads but see nothing that really fits–and I don’t want to “force” it.
I’m living irresponsibly–
and I’m not sure if I care.
I don’t want to give in and spend my life like a hamster,
running on a wheel.
I see my mind start going to some dangerous places.
I’m no good.
Sadness creeps in, threatening to take over the joint.
I’ve been to this place many times throughout my life.
I don’t fit in this world, is my story.
I have to stop and ask whether or not it’s true.
What is true/real?
What is my mind’s lie?
I could leave, but where?
I could go back to Florida, but Florida is a cesspool that lulls the life out of you.
I could go back to Atlanta, but no.
I don’t fit into this world, I tell myself again.
I want to say, I’ve tried it all (as my excuse)–
but I don’t want to sound too arrogant.
I’ve worked over 50 jobs in my life. I’ve lived abroad. I’ve road-tripped the entire United States. I’ve lived in communes. I’ve tried religion. I’ve lived alone. I’ve traveled to more than twenty countries. I have a family who is a support net if I need one.
Talk about privilege.
(Another dagger goes in.)
But I haven’t tried it all. In actuality, I’ve tried so little.
But it can feel so hopeless.
And hopelessness breeds sadness.
And sadness prevents us from seeing something new, something wonderful that might be sitting right in front of us–
a new possibility.
But it’s so easy to become blind to everything but our self-pity.
So, I have to fight! I have to fight against the darkness closing in on me.
Rage. Rage against the dying of the light–
I’ve read somewhere.
Because the darkness isn’t real.
It’s of my own making, I try to convince myself.
But it feels real.
And I don’t want to fight anymore.
“To be nobody but
yourself in a world
which is doing its best day and night to make you like
everybody else means to fight the hardest battle
which any human being can fight and never stop fighting.”