Please help me.

I need to stop talking about things and just do them. I started packing stuff up to get the fuck out of this place but then I stopped and sat down and started writing about it here, starting talking.

I need to stop talking. I need to stop writing. I need to get the fuck out of here.

But I’m a little stuck. I’m very dependent on father. I need to get away from that. Where do I go. Where the fuck do I go. That’s the question.

I feel like I’m just gonna say fuck it and move up to NYC anyway. No schooling. Nothing. A loser. What is with this? I had so much potential. Now I’m nothing. I probably should get some college schooling, it would be best for the future.

Probably. But then, if I risk it all, risk not having anything. Ever. Well, then, maybe it’ll come still? Probably not.

I may just have to give in. I just can’t waste another year. I can’t—you know what, fuck my father. What a crazy son of a bitch. (And I don’t like his mom to boot.)

(Bitch.)

This is bullshit.

Paul Thomas Anderson is a lot more talented than I am. He didn’t go to college because he’s better than me.

That’s bullshit. He’s probably just more driven than me or something.

But I could drive. I can.

Maybe I should hitchhike. Maybe I should walk. Maybe I should be a loser.

Maybe I should write. Maybe I should get no support from my dad whatsoever.

“Please let me leave.” I was gonna ask dad to let me use the car but I started crying, that’s why I quoted that there, expecting to post the answer here.

But the answer here: I don’t know where I’m going.