Escape

OK, I lied. I'm back.

I shouldn't be. As I mentioned once, before this and that post. I need to be studying for a math test, because I want to keep my B. I desperately want to keep my B. If I don't keep my B, I won't be content with a C. If I get a D, again, I don't know what I'll do. My future will be gone.

I can't help it. I have this urge to escape. I can't escape physically from my world or the world that I'm in right now. My own personal world is full of pot holes and hell, while the world outside is no better. I live when I sleep and I live with I'm in cyberland. I'm such a geek. I play on text based RPGs and that is the realm where I run free. Whether as a human, a wolf, a humanoid creature or a horse, I run free. I'm whatever I want, whoever I want. My freedom in these characters that I create and embody have no limits and know no boundries.

It's a simplistically creative heaven. I love it. But it has it's costs.

When I "escape" as I've begun to call it, I sacrifice my grades and my energy devoted to raising them. I neglect the real world, my family, my dog and well, me. I'm so out of shape. I should be in the pool or at the Y. But I'm such a lazy person.

It's so painful looking at movie posters and having what Gam Gam calls "skinny bone girls" parade around in mini skirts and make the rest of us feel like corpulent masses of saturated fat. Well, that is somewhat true to what I am. I just feel so stupid right now. Just sitting here and typing, my glasses--I hate my glasses, I always have--and I can feel my flab congealing beneath my clothes. No matter what I do I can't escape the reality of the world that's been encased in my flesh and blood and bone.

I'm me. And most of the time I do honestly like me and accept me. But lately. I don't like me. I hate me.

I'm awful.

I don't know where I've gone. I'm angry all the time at some entity that I can't always name, I can't always pin point. I'm so belligerent and I always want to fight. Verbally, not physically. But in my imagination I'm fighting. People just crawl beneath my skin or set ablaze the gasoline that now coats my skin. I can't stand words or actions that normally I would dismiss. I can't anymore.

I remember what Mr. Arnold used to say: Can't lives on the Won't Road.

I'm not that weak. I know the difference between can't and won't. And I know what I mean by "can't" is "won't." I won't anymore. I won't put up with people bossing me around and trying to run me over. People believe I'm a pushover and to an extent I am. I'll do what you say, because I don't want to cause a scene and most of the time I'll say what you want.

Is this how I always am? No. Is this who I am? No.

I'm not a leader or a follower. I'm in between and I'm not going to bow down to anybody. God? I don't know anymore. My religion has fallen from me. I am friends with people who scorn the religion I was brought up with. Who make fun of it and bash it. I don't stop them, because in their words are partial truths or all truths. I don't stop them, because I don't want to. But it doesn't mean it hurt, sometimes.

I can't define myself anymore by religion, by Christianity. I'm a sinner. According to many preachers, ministers, the Bible, etc we all are. I haven't been to church in months.

For myself or for my mother or anyone else. I want to be able to give myself over, but there's something more than the Devil holding me back. I don't know if I can give myself over to my church, not the religion, but the church. I haven't found a good one. There's baggage and history that comes with the church I've grown up with. I can't find one that really will let me be myself.

I'm awkward and scared when I go. I can't face the crowd. I just hide in the back. I'm forgotten and I'm alone. I only go if VV goes. I don't want to be alone and be made mince meat of by the lies and stories told behind and in front of my back/face. But it's not really church that haunts me the most, it's not the newest chain of events linking to politics. It's really back to my or the lack there of, myself.

I don't know who I am anymore. I used to be a tolerant person who people confided in when they needed comfort or advice. Now I'm running all over the place looking for people to listen to me. But everything comes out wrong and I just shoot myself in the foot, because I'm trying to be something I'm not. I'm not going around on false pretenses or trying to really become something I'm not, I'm just not behaving according to my true-r personality.

I can't vent to people. I can't vent to my parents, my family. My friends. Because I'm afraid of what they'll tell me or the looks of disgust they might give me. So I do something I shouldn't. I keep it bottled inside. My poetry has stopped. My art has stopped. My writing, on-going. But just crap really.

I'm not a very good liar, but in a way I am. I appear to be happy or at least decent at school emotional wise, even if I'm complaining like hell about someone or something. But I'm not and maybe it's obvious or maybe it's not.

Earlier this year I self-diagnosed myself and I'm sure of it. I'm not screwing around or playing you for a fool. I'm not whining or creating some fake sob story to get the world's attention. I don't need to be under a microscope just to solve my problems. I don't want judgement or pity or anything. I just needed an outlet and a blog was just, well something of a thing. I'm a hyprocrite like anybody else. I'm judgemental myself, I'm critical. I'm terrible.

I'm unhappy.