A Day Without Writing

I’m posting this despite my better judgement, but oh well.

I have spent the hours trying to write, and I can’t write a thing. I can’t get the words onto the page. I stare at the ideas, at the outlines, into my own brain, and I can see it all unfolding, but I can’t write it here. I just don’t feel it. I used to feel it every second of every day, I used to wait to get out of class to rush back to my apartment or my dorm so that I could write and write and write. Now I feel nothing. I feel an obstacle stopping me and I think I know what it is.

It’s this place. This awful place, and the feelings that haunt me here. It’s not getting the right people around me to fuel me, encourage me, to bring out my energy in the right way the way I once had back so long ago.

I don’t feel myself anymore. I don’t feel right anymore. I keep getting new ideas and new insights and I think I’m actually not getting better but just getting different. Smarter, yes. Wiser, yes…but I’m losing something that was important to me.

I’m haunted by dreams I don’t want to talk about. I’m shadowed always by doubt, and so much of it is not my own, but it’s been ontop of me so long that it’s starting to become mine. I can’t write. I can’t write. I just can’t write and it’s driving me insane. It’s driving me crazy. I’ve got to get the hell out of this place and get away, but I don’t know where to go or how. I want to go to Los Angeles, but I already know it won’t solve anything as long as my parents are alive…which is the scariest thing. I can’t escape them. They’re holding on, and they won’t let go. I can’t get free. I’ve got to get away from them…and I don’t think there’s a way. They don’t understand. They never will.

This is so easy to write it makes me angry. It’s so easy to write something so inconsequential and selfish and lacking in dreams. All I can seem to write about are my nightmares. All I can write about is my anger. And that’s not something I want to write about anywhere but here. God damn it. God damn THEM. I hate them. I hate them with every inch of my being. There’s no love. I’m done with it. I held so little anyway, what’s the difference. Just let them die soon, so that I can get on with my life and away from them. I don’t care about being poor, or homeless, I don’t care about any of it. It would be exciting, an adventure, I’m sure it would certainly be educational in its way. I know I’d survive. I’m better at that than a lot of people would give me credit for being.

Two nights ago I had a headache that put me into delirium a little bit and I thought about running away from here, but I couldn’t escape. They own my car, they own everything. I have some money, but they’d track me down. They wouldn’t let me go no matter how hard I tried. There’s no escape from them until they’re dead. The only remaining escape is a job. An actual job that would tie me down in a DIFFERENT way and make me miserable. Something to tide me over until they kick it.

What disgusting thoughts. What depressing ones. I don’t know what to do, and it makes me so angry. I wish I could confront them, but I can’t. It wouldn’t do any good, and that’s the saddest part of the whole thing. It would do absolutely no good, because they can’t be wrong in their own minds. I’ve watched them build their own little world of lies and now they’ve forgotten it’s a lie at all. They’re so fucking arrogant….so stupid….so despicable. I’ve never known people like them….known people to be so disgustingly petty, so foolish, so sickening except in books where they are created to be the epitome of horror and pain.

My father tried to tell me that he was struggling with depression. I don’t buy it. He hasn’t been diagnosed, hasn’t been treated, is just diagnosing himself. And the problem is that I know god damn well that what he thinks is depression is actually simply his own anger that the world isn’t making him rich and happy. He’s depressed because there’s some small piece of him that doesn’t get let out, that gets beaten everyday and is ignored by the thing that is my father, the piece that’s telling him that his whole life and attitude is wrong. It’s his logic. It’s the piece that’s asking him why if he’s so smart, powerful, and good that everyone hates him, ignores him, walks ontop of him, and cheers for his failures.

I’m lost in this place. It’s all a mirage…but better…it’s made itself tangible. I’ve crawled through the desert and now see so much beauty in a place, beauty that’s a lie….comfort that’s not there….and I’m waking up. How do I get free? How how how how how?