i read a bunch of books about traveling the country. all of the dusty fault lines and people described silently. this is the good old america that i imagine lays somewhere close enough to find.
but often when i look around i only see people who are stuck inside of a place. so much that it bites at them and they become it.
the other night i remembered what was keeping me bridled. i was a fury with all of my anger and disgust. lately that has been kicking up so that i can hardly move without a grimace.
i remembered when i just did not care. all of the modern day conventions. forget them. all of the fashion trends and pigeon-holed definitions. making anything such a definitive so-and-so-whatever-thing that i could have fallen blissfully into a field of my most treasured calm at any moment. despite how quiet and unsociable i seemed to be.
most of the time i try to really practice what i preach. but it often seems pointless to follow such lies. my anger is still throbbing twenty-four hours a day. and i breath healthily without breathing calmly.
sometimes i just want to die. i am going to go out of my mind soon.