Is it any surprise that you feel so overrun?...And do you think it's unwise to go and break yourself on this one?
*Sigh*
Sometimes I get the feeling that I've forgotten how to breathe. I love those moments. That moment when I realize that I haven't stopped to take in my regular dose of oxygen. I stop, I stand, I take it in, and I let it out. Usually I close my eyes and let the word 'breathe' slip past my lips. It's a prayer, a reminder, a life. Sometimes I have to remember to do that.
I made it through another term. I stayed up all night writing papers and pulling out my hair. I have a hole in my stomach from all the coffee that I have consumed. I caught the flu the week before finals. I loved every second of it, but now its time to remember how to breathe again.
I have no life, its too hard to have one. People freak me out a little bit. I never know how to act around them, so I shrink, I silence, I listen, and I ponder. It scares people that I do that, but oh well I guess. I write letters to no one. I have a stack of them, all in envelopes. I hope someone reads them one day, but for now, no. Unfortunately, it seems these off the wall letters are the only writing I have had time for outside of school. I've missed The Rice Bowl, and I really hope to end this shut-out. Even my style has suffered slightly from this humdrum routine that I've found. Stream of consciousness seems to be my form of choice. It's a break from the ridiculously structured essays that I write everyday.
But it's spring break, and while everyone goes off to party, all I want to do is find a place away from everyone to think, to read, to be. I've come up against the 'I want out' wall again. It never takes long. But this time, I have to stay, I have to work, because I so want to make my next escape plan work, until the next one comes along.
Someone once told me that I think too much. Everything has to be processed and mean so much more. I like symbolism. I like theme. I yearn to find meaning. Everything contains it. See, I think too much. There are moments, when I just want to escape that; but then I really just want someone to understand it.
Sometimes I get phone calls from people, and they always end with, 'well, I have to go,' and then I get off the phone and wonder what the point of that conversation was.
I guess I'm saying that my life has fallen into a routine that I knew would happen and I'm trying to find some kind of escape, but I can't. The routine I've fallen into is my escape. I work for an escape and work is what keeps my head from thinking more than it should.
Eat. Sleep. Repeat.
Writing this feels like a little bit of an escape...and reminding myself to breathe.
