The Same Old Fear

Nowadays, I find it hard to distinguish between things that I want and things that I don’t want. All I know for sure is that I want to go back home. It’s funny when I think about it: I’ve been lying under the sky I’ve been used to, all the time not knowing that I was getting used to it. It’s the only place that makes sense.

...And in a world that doesn’t make any sense, that means a whole fucking lot.

I don’t know what the next step should be. I want this to be over – this part that doesn’t mean anything. I’m so tired of this. I'm counting down the months, counting down the days. But I wonder if it's supposed to be like this. It just doesn't feel quite right and I don't really like it. I don't really like how this time that is passing by might as well not be passing by.

I just need one thing…but I don’t know what it is. And I know that it’s all futile…to wish for people to see what can’t be seen; to think about possibilities that are impossible. And I get the feeling that I would rather dissolve. Dissolve to stop this feeling…dissolve to feel under control. Because that’s what I’m not: under control.

Turns out, I’m in the exact same place. I never did find a way to get to the other side. I’d see the boats every time I passed by on the bus, but I just couldn’t work out a way to actually get there. It’s always been in the mornings…or when I could make sure that no one knew where I was. I guess that it’s only then that things feel alright. But it sounds awful selfish.

I just feel as if I’ve been asking the same question over and over and over again but never really getting an answer:

Are you there? Are you there? Are you dead?

What are you going to do? Maybe I’m just not thinking too clearly now. Let’s hope a drink will make things better.

(Some things DO make me happy: Uhm, ya...I'm a HUGE sucker for Doris Day and Rock Hudson)