Today, I had a professor tell me that he had figured out everything about me from a single line I wrote in a survey. He told me that I had never been challenged before and wouldn’t truly thrive until I took on an abundance of courses and commitments that would force me to work my hardest all the time.
This theory actually makes a lot of sense. I could see myself working in overdrive for the rest of my life and becoming extremely successful.
My professor probably considers this the noblest course of action.
I’ve always been an intelligent child. I take advanced courses, get good grades, and read in abundance. I’ve always understood that being intelligent is a necessity. I can’t go through life not knowing anything.
However, making my life’s main focus academic accomplishments is appalling for me to imagine.
I want to be intelligent, but I want the majority of my life to be about experiences. I want to feel every emotion, go through unimaginable hardships and countless irreplaceable moments. I want to be successful one day and have those adorable curly haired children, but before that I want to go hungry and live under a pile of blankets in a cold apartment. I want to build a house my children grow up in, but before that I want to become part of different cultures and speak languages I don’t yet appreciate.
I am so young. I am so, so young. This constant struggle to figure out my future and my life is completely unnecessary. I don’t need to live my whole life right now. I don’t need to pick a path and stick to it. How boring would that be? I’m 19 and I’ve been told to choose what I’m going to do for the rest of my life. Well, guess what? I don’t want to do just one thing! I don’t want to have a set path, a pair of shackles confining me to a single lifestyle.
I want to live one hundred lives. Maybe there isn’t time, but I’ll be damned if I only live half a life because I’m worried about making it look like a success.
today i had the sudden realization that i’m not what i used to be. i used to do things because i would die if i didn’t. i used to not care about what i was supposed to do. i used to run without it being exercise. i used to go outside at 3 in the morning because i had to feel the cold right now. i used to lay, draw, roll on the ground. i used to be worth getting to know. i used to not want to be anyone or have anything. i was practically dead i thought i needed nothing to live but i felt more alive than i have since. since i started worrying about my future and my hair and my body. since i tried to be what i was supposed to be.
i’d rather be living and dying
than dead on my feet
Have you ever felt like you really need someone? Like you really need friends that love you enough to be there for you when you’re low? The thing about being low, though, is that people shy away from it. They don’t have the time or energy to help you. It’s easier to ignore than to invest in.
The worst part for me is how pathetic I sound. I can hear the blatant hints I’m dropping. I can hear that I drop them too often. I can hear the silence that follows and the change of conversation instead of response. I know that if I were to die, people would look back on those moments and think “yeah, it was always there”.
Then, when the people you love don’t respond in the way you want them to, you know that you’re finally alone. You can’t keep pressing, you can’t get angry, you have to lie here and wait for it to pass if it ever will. You have to wait for the sun to come out the hopelessness to ebate. You have to cry and write and paint.
But, whatever I do, I can’t go to them because bringing me up would bring them down.
I wish my family were the type of people to believe in things like depression. I wish I could see a doctor that would make me better. I wish I didn’t have to think of the easiest way to kill myself multiple times throughout the day. I just wish I could be normal again.
Today I realized just how selfish death makes me. Not the death of people who are close to me but the death of people I kind of know. My roommate, Reigna, was hit by a car today. Upon receiving the news, I was shocked and frozen and I didn’t know what to say. How do I respond to these people who assume we’re close because we live together? I probably should have led with this, but Reigna is completely fine. She is not dead. However, for a brief time I wondered if she would die. I wondered if people would try to console me. I wondered if she would be another person I should have gotten to know but they died before I got the chance. Of course, this is so fucking selfish that I’m a little embarrassed to be posting it. No one reads this though so we’re good. I just don’t want to be this self-centered, and I don’t want to keep avoiding people.
I’m a firm believer in avoidance. I think it stems from my theory on monsters. The theory is this:
Monsters are there to scare you. In movies, the monster is always just our of sight of its victim, lurking in the shadows. The fear exists in the viewer because we know the monster is there; we’ve register the ominous ambiance as scary. Looking at the potential victim, however, we notice that they are untouched by that fear. They have no idea a monster is there. So, applying this logic, if I feel like there is a monster lurking in the darkness of my room at night, I simply close my eyes tighter. I don’t give the monster the power to scare me. If the monster can’t scare me, it loses it’s purpose. It loses its power over me because I am that oblivious victim.
My life is a little like that. Sometimes it’s just easier to just close my eyes tighter. If I am unaware of the problem, then there is no problem. I know that’s the kind of thinking breeds war and holocaust. I know it’s ridiculous and one day I’m going to wake up on a lifeless battlefield with no idea of how I got there. The thing is, I don’t know how to make myself change.
How do you change something that is so ingrained in you’re personality you’re not sure there was ever a time when you didn’t act this way? I feel like slapping myself every time I can’t physically make myself pick up the phone to call my dad, even though our relationship could be fixed. All that goes through my head is why fix something when we can pretend like there’s nothing there to fix? Why buy a new mail box key when I can pretend like I’ll never get mail anyway? Why do my homework when I can pretend like the education system is too flawed to mean anything? Why make new friends when I’m just going to leave them eventually anyway? Why make any lasting ties at all when all I really want is to know no one, be no one, have no place?
Goodness me, it got a little dark there didn’t it? Think of it this way:
In real life, monsters will get you whether you see them or not. Life will definitely get you if you see it or not. All we can do is try to prepare ourselves. Failing school and choosing solitude may seem like the easiest thing to do, but what kind of life is easy. Crappy butt life, that’s what kind.
With college, I didn’t really think about the things I was missing. I mean, college is where we’re supposed to be, right? It’s where all of my friends are. I would be missing out if I weren’t at college. I was completely content to believe this until just recently. In fact, I was content to believe that all of the learning I would be doing in my life would end with college. All of the science and math at least.
To explain what changed my thinking, I’ll have to give you a little background. There is this guy I know, not anyone I’m particularly close to, but we’re acquaintances. So, this summer Evan decided to quit his job, forgo school, and hike from the bottom of California to the top of Washington. This is something apparently a lot of people do, and during the trip Evan met a ton of awesome fellow travelers and had a terrific life changing experience.
Upon returning home, Evan and I hung out together with a couple of our mutual friends, and he brought up something really interesting. He said, “Yeah, I just really wanted to go on an adventure before I graduated college and couldn’t go anywhere.” Wait, what? “You know, with college debt and stuff, I wouldn’t be able to just take off I’d have to get a job.”
To say my jaw hit the floor would be a slight exaggeration, but that’s how it felt in my soul. Oh, my god, I hadn’t even thought about that! I want to go on adventures! Does this mean I never get to go on adventures!? What if I get a stable job, a comfortable house, marry someone, and pop out some little demon spawn? I was on my way to a goddamn sensible life, and I didn’t even realize it.
In my mind, my future goes a little like this:
First, I’d finish college. Then, depending on my mood, I’d either join the Peace Corps for a while, learn a new language and adventure. After that, I don’t know. I guess I would look for a job that required travel but was predominantly free lance and could be done from home. Of course, after I got bored with all of that, I figured I could just go. I wanted to live in Asia. I wanted to hike across America. I wanted to drive to concerts, take advantage of hallucinogens, and wake up weeks later in a completely different part of the country. I wanted to travel around Louisianna as a troubadour.
Now, all I can think about is the years it will take to pay off my debt. Will I have time after to do the things traveling hobos get to do? I hope so. Some of that seems doable, but what about the stuff that requires zero dependence.
I’ve always kind of wanted to be an orphan. Don’t shoot me, I know, my parents were lovely and gave me everything I needed. The problem is, I feel so tied to them. I feel like I can’t just leave and not talk to them or visit them for a couple of years. They would miss me too much. I know it’s kind of ungrateful. I call it Batman Syndrome. I know Batman would be furious, but I envy what he has. Not the money, but yeah the money too. I envy the vigilante freedom that he has. He, and other superheroes, are outside of the system. They don’t even have to abide by laws. They certainly don’t have to worry if their W-2 or W-4 forms are filled out or how much money they want the government to take out of their paychecks (OK I still don’t understand that stuff at all). Sure, their lives are tragic, but they’re purposeful and interesting (not to mention great cardio).
What I’m getting at here is that we’re all being ties to a life that’s considered “the dream”. Maybe I don’t want a house. Maybe I don’t want a family. Maybe I want a string of lovers in multiple countries. What I don’t want is to stand still. I know I’m a lazy teenager who spends most of her day micro-blogging, but I need my life to be transient. I don’t want to be sitting in my nursing home in 60 years thinking about how I’m not ready to die because there is so much I haven’t done. I don’t want it to ever be too late to have an interesting life.