A Rambling

I’m only slightly delirious right now, pretty certain that this sinus infection–if that is what it is–and a great lack of sleep and large amount of stress are the things that all contribute to this, but here I go anyway.

What the fuck am I even writing right now? Really, I have no idea. I’m just letting this thing flow out of my like a huge, gushing river. My vocabulary had diminished so much, either that or I’m no longer impressed by the amount of large words that I used from a day to day basis. I want to do something with my life already. I’m 23 and all I’ve done is break my back working and going to school to try to do something, to try and live and instead I’m just stuck here hiding in other worlds through books and movies and dreading the time I have to clock in. I love making drinks, don’t get me wrong, and I love helping people find the books they want–so long as they’re nice about it–but sometimes I just want to do it on my own time, when I want to do it. That’s why I want to own a place like that, a nice little coffee shop that lends out books to people who want to expand their minds. That’s my dream, really. I don’t actually want to teach. I mean, I do, but, again, I want to teach what I want to teach in the way that I want to teach it, and I feel like that will be highly unlikely or impossible if I stay in America because this school system is pretty fucked in most areas around this “great nation.”

I want to live beautifully. I keep writing down this scene in my head and it varies from time to time, but I keep writing it because it’s the best way I know how to make it real for the time being. I’m getting a little bit closer to my dream, and to writing more. I haven’t had much time for it because I’ve just been trying to survive in this cruddy world. I want to study linguistics, not literature. I want to learn and master multiple languages to the point where I dream in those languages–that’s how you know it’s stuck. I want to relearn French, I want to learn Korean, maybe even dutch or Russian, definitely Gaelic and Irish, probably Italian and, as an offshoot of that, Spanish. I want to discover new words and use them. I want to memorize the dictionary, multiple dictionaries. I want to memorize thesauruses so I can have and hold and utilize every word in my growing arsenal. I want to be able to speak as eloquently as I sometimes write. I want to finally have my words on the outside match the words I hear on the inside.

I want to create characters and worlds and put them down on a page and tell their stories because they’ve been trapped so far inside of me for so many years. I want to go back and edit my first five novels that I wrote before the school system stole my creativity. I want to learn, but I don’t want to learn in school. I want to teach myself and be able to call it enough, to just take a test or write a dissertation afterwards and have it be so great that they just give me my freaking Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees.

I want the fog crawling across the green ground, flowers in the window, grey skies, rain on my roof, chunky sweaters and long skirts and furry Sherpa boots and big fuzzy blankets and cuddly cats and a library that takes over my house and paintings on the walls and pictures of me and Michael in our house and a simple layout where I can do yoga. I want to be able to eat healthy and know what healthy is. And I want to be creative again.

I want to rid my life of everything unnecessary, declutter it, and feel good about myself again. I hate who I’ve become because I’ve become someone I never wanted to be. I want to reach back inside of me into my roots and speak from my core and not be shamed for being myself and speaking my mind and doing things my own way, for not always conforming to societal standards. I want to be able to return to the kind person I once was, to be unafraid of talking to people or being judged by them. I want to learn to love myself as I am now and love myself always as I am ever changing. I want to become better. I want to move forward and not be stagnant. I want to enjoy listening to music again and make playlists for my friends. I want friends again. I have no one, no one but Michael, and I love him, but sometimes I need others to talk to. What if I need to talk to someone about him, who could I turn to? I have no one.

I want to be alone, but I don’t want to be lonely. And I want to have company when I’m ready to have company and I want to be able to make people happy again but I don’t know how because I can’t even make myself happy. I want to stop being depressed and guilty and I want to stop having these thoughts of killing myself that I’ve had since I can remember. I want to be able to be close with my family again, but I don’t know how to fix the damage that’s been done in their lives that affect our relationships with all of us, I don’t know how to fix our own damage. No matter how I might accept it, we butt heads too often. I want to sleep, and I don’t want to sleep because there aren’t enough seconds in the day to see all that there is to see, to hear all that there is to hear, to learn all that there is to learn. There simply isn’t enough time, and sometimes there is just too much time. But lives are short and I’m a quarter of the way through mine, if I believe that I might live close to one-hundred.

There’s this song that gets me every time called Late Bloomer by Allie Moss and I think it gets me because I relate to it so greatly and so deeply. I always thought that I was a late bloomer, and technically I was and I still am, but the song is about how she has always been a late bloomer, not because she lacked ability, but because fear stopped her from blooming on time and how she’s sick of letting it stop her. She gives the image of herself being able to walk and then hiding it because she was afraid and how she reverts to just crawling, but that she really does know how to walk and was always too afraid to. “Always been a late bloomer/ And I know the truth hurts/ I knew how to walk/ But I was afraid to fall/ But I don’t want to crawl anymore.” A lot of her music speaks to me because I can relate on every level. Her words are human experiences and I am a human. I want to have this kind of impact on someone someday, to make them feel like they’re not alone, to save them from destruction. I want them to read or hear my words and be alright for another day. I don’t want to crawl anymore.