There I was on some bus, sitting two seats to the right behind some nun. And I find myself almost tearfully thinking Sorry Jesus, Sorry Ma.
I could be studying at some college like most of my friends. But where I am is on some bus sitting two seats to the right behind some nun, with a bag full of lingerie and a pair of plastic heels.
And sometimes I wish so hard I had that blind child-like faith or be that delusional to believe so strongly or stupidly, depending on the given perspective, and become a nun. To live in a convent full of fucking olive trees and small crosses hung on the walls of their every dull-colored room.
To justify my every thought by the God I seem to have lost my faith in. To think about the kids who need adopting and about the girls that walk around showing too much, and never look into boys' eyes.
Think about anything but myself.
Instead I walk mostly naked, one step away from dry humping old men for thirty bucks a song.
And I could be learning something useless at school right now. Or be doing what I fear and love the most. Perform. I could be cursing at my coffee at one in the morning, groggily studying for some exam.
Sorry Jesus Sorry Ma.
But is this what I've become? Could this be permanent, this creature I've turned myself into? Silly, naive me, taking off thinking things will sort themselves out.
And I'm thinking Sorry Sorry, but I don't know who I'm apologizing to anymore. Maybe the person who needs most apologizing to is myself.
For becoming this bitter cynic of a twenty year old with only a vague idea of where to go but no idea how to get there. What to do? I'm small and I demand somebody tell me what to do!
And maybe it's blatantly obvious. Maybe the thing to finding yourself is to go back to the start. And I'm thinking, yeah, this is me, quoting Coldplay songs but I need to go back to what I was before I consciously flung myself into shit.
Sorry Jesus Sorry Ma
And maybe I'm a bit lost. Or maybe I'm a self absorbed girl driving herself nuts.
But I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
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6 comments:
Watch yourself. Sooner or later you stop wanting to apologize, you'll stop caring about who you are, and that's how you know you've hit rock bottom. I wouldn't wish that on anybody.
Hmm... It's so extremely tiring. These bouts of existential depression hit me when least expected and I end up having to physically flee wherever I happen to be at that moment. Does this happen to you too or is it just me?
Here I was thinking it was only me. The worst thing about it is when you look at the people around you and they all look so stable, so contented, so intensely calm. That's what gets to me, really. The thought that it's just me.
Maybe everybody's just as good at hiding it as we are. Or maybe they're just that uncomplicated.
It's so sad that one can feel so entirely alone in the middle of a crowd.
But hey, now you know that somebody else, in some part of the world, feels the same as you do.
At least I have that. Here's to you, kiddo. Empathy is always comforting.
DES. I love you. Keep writing this blog please!
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