SICK AND TWISTED

Before saying goodnight, my boyfriend told me to "have fun at school tomorrow." I did not know whether to laugh or cry. Instead, I got to thinking. Every night I text him goodnight. I do so, because what if I never get to say it to him again? I do so, because I am most terribly frightened of the unknown. Of what could or could not happen. Then, I proceed to lay in bed for a good two hours before I actually fall asleep. I suffer from chronic insomnia. It's a terrible disease. After the battle between myself and my self absorbed psychotic brain finally dies down, I rest what seems to be the never ending cycle of insanity within my head. And then, my favorite part. I dream. I usually dream about houses. Which often manufactures me waking up earning to be an architect. When I am not dreaming about houses, I dream about clothes. Which, as you can imagine, gives me the desire to be a designer. When I am not dreaming about houses or clothes, I dream about photos, and movies, and writing, and different ways of expression. I wake up every morning knowing exactly what I want in life. And I fall asleep every night right back where I started, confused as fuck. Because every morning I want something new, something different from the previous morning. It never ends. The thing is, what I really want, is to be a nomad. I do not want to go to college and learn from a professor. I do not want to have a schedule, an agenda, or even a calendar for that matter. I want to forget the meaning of time. I want to forget what my face looks like. I want to live in a world that has no such government, no slaughter houses, no judgement, prescription drugs, or man made lakes. I want to be able to wear the same shirt everyday for the rest of my life. I never want to shave my legs again. I want to forget what a dollar sign looks like, or what my pin number is. I do not want to dirty my face with makeup. I do not want to cover up a pimple, or a scar. I want to know where the food I eat comes from. I do not want to be tainted, sedated, or intoxicated any longer. I want laughter to consume my life from this day on. I want to someday, not have the desire to check my fucking facebook. Or, this fucking blog. I do not want to feel the need to prove myself. I do not want to be jealous. I want to sell mangos on a beach in Mexico and take drugs all day. I want to live on a farm in the south. I want to isolate myself in Alaska. I want to make bracelets for a living in Indonesia. I want to forget the meaning of a corporation. I want a best friend. One that understands me and my freakish obsessions. I want to understand people in return, because I sure as fuck don't. I want what I do to matter. Instead of making a difference, I want to make the same. I tell myself all of these promises, and then guess what happens? My brain settles, I fall asleep, and I dream. I wake up again knowing exactly what I want in life. I get out of bed, wash my face, and brush my teeth. I spend an hour getting dressed, because in the beginning of the day, I do care. I do judge. I do prove myself. I do dirty my skin. I check the time. I take my phone off the charger, put it in my purse, grab my keys, and walk out the door. I get to school, and the stress begins. The constant need to look in the mirror never ends. The reckoning never dies. I live in a sick twisted mind. I live in an undying state. At the end of the day is when it starts all over again. WILL IT STOP AND WHEN BECAUSE I'M FUCKING HUNGRY.