I can tell this isn’t you, your cover’s blown

Four weeks and I’ll be completly free of that place. That place where my space is not my own and my life-being is ignored and pounded on. Where my soul is beated down with cane cut from the fields of France, if only to remind me how inadequate America is. How inadequate I am. Slices of my skin have been taken, a pound of flesh as punishment. I feel my soul weeping out of my skin. I don’t even recognize the girl in the mirror anymore. Her eyes are sad and dark. Her smile is fake and small. Even her hair is no longer that familiar mousy-brown.

So its not all that bad, but its not peaches and cream either. I’m fighting what feels like a losing war and even when I win the occassional battle, no one seems to notice or even care. Maybe my walls are shooting up and the soldiers are standing guard a little too intensely at the gate. But I’m tired and worn out and I don’t need to beaten down again.

I’m sick. Again. Head congestion, cough, runny nose – no fever – and just feeling absolutly gorey-gous. I could take on the world if only I could laugh at it without having a coughing fit. I want to sleep until my sunshine comes out again. But my sun is hiding somewhere and I need to go find it. Its not in Mason, that evil soul-sucking building. Its not in my dorm, where girls scream and laugh all hours of the day and night. Its not in my car, which is strangly empty. Its not even at home, where I don’t really belong anymore.

So where is my sun? Probably in my space, where ever that will be.

Next year will be better. Next year I’ll have my own room in my own apartment, off-campus and away from controlling RAs who are two years younger than me. I will be able to break my world in two again; home and school. They will not be a solid mix of both.

But I still feel like I’m floating right now. I don’t have space. I don’t have space of my own where I control the people, the music, the light, the heat, the cold – my space. And few people seem to see that I’m floating. I’m not grounded right now. And even fewer people seem to understand how that is starving me – like holding a plant just above the ground – not allowing water or nutrients to reach the roots.

I need my space.

Home, is this the quiet place where you should be alone?
Is this where the tortured and the troubled find their own?
I don’t know, but I can tell this isn’t you, your cover’s blown
Oh no, don’t you dare hang up this phone

Hey, give me space so I can breathe
Give me space so I can sleep
Give me space so you can drown in this with me

In this place
The lonely escapade in outer space
There’s no antidote for irony you say
that you have, when you know that you don’t
and you say, that you can, when you know that you won’t

Hey, give me space so I can breathe
Give me space so I can sleep
Give me space so you can drown in this with me
Hey, give me space but I can’t breathe
Give me space but I can’t sleep
Give me just one inch I swear that’s all I’ll need

These padded walls and TV screens
Sometimes they make me want to scream

Space ~ Something Corporate