It's truly terrible to be in a circumstance completely unalterable on your own terms. I could leave. I have people who would open their doors to me. However, experience has shown that those are never stable situations and, more often than not, strain or break my relationship with the person.
It's frustrating being presented a choice and having the knowledge that it isn't really one.
Anyways, I'm building something here. I've got my temp job that wants me staying longer. I've got the raffle for housing. Even that aside, I'm going to go to school for a certification that will guarantee a job in this city.
I've never felt more tied to a place, and it's suffocating in that it's the only way I've had hope yet.
Like being smothered by a gas mask.
I live in probably the most dangerous position to be in, but every day I have to walk by roads and go to work like I believe in my own future. Is that right? Do I? I must because I've been going along with it. Or is that simply passivity? I do everything right. That's what I'm told.
I talk to my friends, my family. They're living in different worlds entirely. I have to act like it doesn't matter. Otherwise, they would feel estranged, and where would we go from there? Separate ways, I think. Until I can reenter their world. But it will never truly feel like mine.
It's scary knowing something has left you forever changed. Is it that I wouldn't want it any other way, or that I can't imagine anything going differently?
I have so many projects, hopes, and dreams. I've collected them over the years and they, in turn, collect dust and spiders. I could die tomorrow and they'll be gone. Some 15 year olds have achieved more actualization of their goals than I have. When I was 15, I was in charge of my parent. Emotionally burned out and trying to do the right thing. Here I am again. At least what I do now is for myself.
There is one thing I'm happy about. I'm eating out more locally. I want to find the best places to eat in my city. Food's always been a big thing to me. I've dealt with its scarcity for most of my life.
It's just hard to judge food appropriately when I'm grateful to eat at all. I don't know any of my friends that could ever relate to that.
It's exhausting to want to be known when it will only result in pity. Maybe I pity myself. Still, I can't stand it.
Pity is a barrier to sincerity. It taints my relationships. People misguidedly stretch truths to placate me, and I recognize it. I can no longer expect genuity. I wish people didn't care, but I'm desperate to think anyone does. It's a catch-22 and leaves me with nothing but heartache.
Even just putting this here is a bad decision. The more honest I am, the worse it affects others, and the more pity I receive. I'm no longer seen. I'm no longer here. Just a collection of misfortune with results shaped like a person.
I don't know what to do. I do the best I can. I can only trust by not thinking too hard about it.
A sibling called me cursed. A friend was surprised I'm not inebriated. Is this the honesty I crave? How do I outgrow my situation to be seen? Nearly 3 decades in a tomb, and no guarantee I'll leave.
That's what poetry and song are for, I guess. Understanding without judgement.
There's no conclusion here.
gummygunk
prguitarman
turnnoffyourmind
vaporwave
andulkaphoto
