I'm beginning to feel it again. Depression. I feel lost. I'm not sure why.
I want to be. Belong. Be strong.
Be away from myself. No, not that much, just enough
to get through to some other side of something. You know,
sometimes I think I'll never be with you, in your world.
I mean,
I'm going to be twenty-seven years old.
How can I ever be loved? How can I ever have a family
and build my own home and raise my own kids with my own husband?
I have those dreams. I do. It's just easier to not think
about them and chase after something that will either
elude me or betray me.
I feel like I've been following the rules
and any day I will be rewarded for my patience and long suffering.
Am I fooling myself? Are these things not part of who I am to be?
Then who am I to be?
I want to go back to school. At least then,
I had a purpose. I had a goal I could obtain if I kept going.
Falling in love is not something I can sign up for and graduate into.
I have no control over it. Then how shall I be the person of my future?
When will I travel to far off lands and build my own house with two big dogs?
How will I do these things alone? I don't want to be alone.
I am beginning to wallow.
I knew the knee-deep swimming was long over due. The empty days
are not stress over money or boredom. They are loneliness.
Blah blah blah. I'm tired of my own voice. I'm tired of my own poetry.
I'm sick of my memories.
I'm dead-sick-tired of Friday nights in this house, watching reruns
of Sabrina the Teenage Witch, (especially since she's in college now).
How sad is it that I've seen every episode of Pop Stars
and I don't even like pop music?
Well, it's even sadder that I am wondering why it hasn't been on
in the last couple of weeks. And it pisses me off
that Joey and Pacey broke up and that Felicity and Ben made up
and that Ross and Rachel haven't gotten back together.
What's worse than that is that I live in my old neighborhood
and haven't looked up my old English teacher
who still works at my high school. And that I haven't tried
to find Rhonda who made me promise that our kids would know each other.
And that I still haven't ridden the Blue Line to Los Angeles
or been to the Long Beach Museum of Art
or to New York or to London.
I am too scared to leave here and be accountable to some new promises
I will be too afraid to keep. I hate the fact that the weekends are a relief
and a burden, that I have crappy car speakers, and that I don't ever exercise.
I want to be more than I am. I want to be.
5-4-01
