some kind of nothingness

The house in the woods is really nice.  It is really in the middle of nowhere, though.  The drive into “town” is about half an hour, which isn’t much worse than driving into Detroit from where I am now.  It’s a longer distance, but the traffic is minimal.  

I’m trying to get things worked out so I can go to college next semester.  I can’t get federal student aid because I have too many credits, so I’m going to have to take out private loans to pay for it.  I got my school email and stuff activated today, so I can register.  I just need to talk to my advisor.  My advisor isn’t the right person, though.  The office just re-activated me exactly as I was four years ago, and my advisor is in the chemistry department.  I’m going into biology, so that’s awkward.  

I have been feeling more and more nothing.  I’ve been dreaming, when I’ve been sleeping, which is either much more or much less than I think it is.

I dream of drowning.  Dying.  All the time.  Every night for the last week I’ve died.  All it leaves behind is this longing for nothing.  But I don’t know that death is nothingness, and I don’t want to die.  I just don’t want to live, and it’s unfortunate that those are my two options.  

“You’re tender and you’re tired.  You can’t be bothered to decide whether you live or die, or just forget about your life.”

I’ve been on a Manics kick lately.  I guess sometimes you forget why your favorite band is your favorite band.  

Apparently recurring dreams of death and suicide indicate that I am desperate to escape my waking life.  Alternatively, it could be a phoenix thing, like being reborn from death.  I could be going through a transition in life and saying goodbye to my old self.  Or, I could just be trying really, really hard to escape from something.

Dream interpretation is pretty…lame.  
I’m a coward.  I’ve never been one to face things head on.  Escape is kind of my thing.

I skipped my classes today.  I’m down to a 2 / 3 attendance rate.  I just don’t care.  As long as I pass the classes, I’ll get transfer credit for them.  It doesn’t matter if I get good grades, or if I work hard.  Look where all my hard work has gotten me thus far.  After years and years of all work, no play, years of straight A’s and responsible decisions, I am $50,000 in debt and making $9,000/year.  I have $300 in my bank account that has to last me the next week.  I have no close friends, and I have never been pursued by (or wanted to be pursued by) a suitor.  My most intimate relationship is with my cat, who knows me better than any human.  I have hundreds, if not thousands, of scars, all of which are self-inflicted, as well as 6 new, freshly-scabbed cuts on my left arm.

I am, in short, a very over-educated failure.

What could I possibly want to escape from.