Down the rabbit hole

"Would you tell me please, which way I ought to go from here?"
"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to", said the cat
"I don't care where-", said Alice
"Then it doesn't matter which way you go", said the cat
"So long as I get SOMEWHERE", added Alice as an explanation
"Oh you're sure to do that", said the cat " if you only walk long enough".

And oddly enough, I always manage to find my answers in children's Fairy Tales. And maybe the term 'children's' isn't quite correct. And this, what the extract is saying, it stopped being enough for me quite some time ago

Because ending up anywhere isn't necessarily better than being static. And walking forwards doesn't necessarily mean moving on. And maybe we've been asking ourselves the wrong kinds of questions all the while. You've always got much more to lose than you think you do.

Do you know where you're going ?

Not sure what my point is.

I don't know whether to feel admiration or irritation towards these people who appear to be absurdly sure about their place in this world. And by place, I mean knowing what the heck you're supposed to be doing on this vast space of land we call earth. Something you feel like you were born to do. Something to be passionate about.
And maybe I'm undecided because I'm thorn between jealousy and admiration. Or cynicism.
I hear artists saying passionately' I believe we were born to make music'.
Dancers saying ' Some people walk through life, some people run ... and some people dance ' ( like that's supposed to make sense).
I've never heard actors saying some people were born to imitate life, because that's kind of insulting.
Maybe that's what it is with me.
I feel like I haven't found a single thing I feel really strongly about because I feel strongly about lots of things. I think we weren't born to make music. I think we were born making it already. Crying is either a noise or a melody, depending on your perspective. None of us talk in monotone, and even if we did, it's still a note.
And I don't feel like you need to know how to dance to be able to dance through life. Because you're already, unknowingly, moving to the rhythms of nature, of your surroundings.
And maybe these people are just really good bullshitters.
Because if I have to believe we were put here for a reason, I'll say I believe we were put here to have a good time. To at least try to have it. To experience it, to grow.
Because no matter how much you love doing something, I believe it to be impossible to be sure about it all along.
I love acting. But I wouldn't die not being on stage.
I love playing piano but I'd still be breathing if all my fingers fell off.
I mean... life would go on right..?
Or maybe it wouldn't. Maybe a piece of you would die when the things you love doing become an impossibility. Maybe that's what being passionate about something is.
Maybe all you have to do to find your place here is ask.
Ask yourself, your friends, anyone with an ear to lend.
Some would call this a process' By Elimination'.
What would you not live without?
What makes your heart beat faster?
Is it possible to believe that you were sent here for one reason?
And do you need to know all this to know how to become who you really are?

Ecstatic.

After twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep, even the deepest shithole is reduced to a dent in the road. What I'll do is not talk and walk. I'll do and not say. And I don't need to speak loudly during a conversation with myself. I don't need to open my arms wide when I know there's empty space around me. This feel like cold, fresh air after being stuck inside for too long.
And maybe you think I'm exaggerating. But the thing is, I'm not. Being left alone, being given my space is probably one of the most beautiful feelings in the world. Because you never appreciate your personal space until it's not personal anymore.
And I feel ready to face whatever is thrown at me. I'm feeling sane ( relatively). And I'm feeling freeeeee....

The long awaited day.

Where you can't really sleep. Where you wake up grinding your teeth, feeling pissed off before you can even remember what's bothering you.
And I'm awake at six a.m. Where the only sound is my typing and the gentle hum of a gerbil wheel.
And God knows, I've been waiting for this day to come for the past ten. Because being thrust with someone all the time drives me to hysterics.
Because I can't believe how selfish and rude people can be. And as time goes I realize that the more you respect, the worse you're treated. And the worse you treat people, the more they respect you.
And I'm my own personal psychologist now, but I can barely speak with how broken my voice is. And this, my dear friends, is my repressed self physically expressing my psychological temporary inability of speech. Inability is not the right word. Maybe censorship is more like it. Because if I were to speak what's on my mind, somebody would commit suicide, I'm that hateful right now.
And I think I'm more angry at myself than I am at anybody else. For letting this bitch invite herself and disrupt my routine for the part days. For treating her nicely only to have her 'obliviously' act selfishly back.
Because when you're offering free lodging and all that comes with it, you don't expect you friend to prance around in her towel, wet, in front of your brothers, just after her shower. Neither do you expect her to act all offended when you draw her attention on this.
Because when you've made such an effort to be hospitable, you don't expect to get no gratitude in return. To spend more money than this bitch does on her holiday. To drag her out and about even when you're dead tired and be totally unappreciated.
And right now, I want to believe in karma more than any other time in my life.
Because girls suck ass. I keep being surprised by the extent of their bitchiness.
Men are much more genuine than women. That is why I heart and understand gays so much.
I bet if a guy friend would have come over, this would have been a blast.
And my point is. Be bitchy. Be crude and speak your mind.
I bet nobody would think of using you in any way, then.

Babysitting duties?

How I feel is absolutely exhausted. My friend came to 'see me' all the way from London and what I feel like is a babysitter that's underpaid and underrated. And you could take this wrong or not. But I don't like having someone stuck to my side 24/7. I don't like having to think about feeding them and showing them places. Worrying about whether they're enjoying themselves or not. Sharing my personal space. My story.
This is why I don't do relationships. This is why I don't want a boyfriend. The fact that your friends don't demand sex and/or constantly try to touch some part of you doesn't make it any less better. Actually, I think that's what makes it worse.
And I feel so drowsy and fucked up. I can't sleep, my voice isn't quite right and I feel hungover without the alcohol and the funny memories.
All I want is some quiet inside my head, and some alone time.
So why do I feel so bad, me being a tad bit anti social? I'm happy that my friend came over. But I've seen enough of her now, we've caught up. I just want her to leave so I can carry on with the routine she's disrupted.
I don't like being depended upon. If she'd just come over and stayed at mine's and hung out in the evening, that would have been perfect.
Why do people have to keep on pushing at your boundaries?
Is this weird of me?
I just want space.

The talent that is List writing.

I'm an avid list maker. Yes. It's one of my many talents. This is what I've learned and have come to accept so far in the year two thousand and n/mine.

-Life is not fair. And even though everyone's telling you to get used to that - you probably never will.

-Look after yourself. No one else gives a sh*t.

-Freedom isn't for free. Someone has to pay the price and it might as well be you.

-The only constant is change. (And that's perfectly fine by me).

-If something sounds dodgy it probably is.

-You are probably not entitled to any thing you didn’t work for.

-Talk is cheap, unless action backs it up.

-If you f*ck up, it's your own damn fault, and nobody else's.

-You can't help someone who doesn't want help.

-Although it may feel fun going against the rules, bad things will invariably happen.

Open up and say Hi...

And. I have a pathological need to move around. And I'm not sure whether I'm moving on or simply moving away. What I'm trying to do is find my place in this world and it's doesn't matter which way you take this because you got it right any way.
I need to see new things. To meet new people and expose myself to new things until I go to that place where I feel like there, this feels like home.
And no, it doesn't get any easier leaving. Packing up and saying bye to your friends is as scary as the first time, every single time you do it.
But I get this feeling, almost like a timed alarm, and it tells me it's time to leave again, to move on and do new stuff. Safety never got anyone anywhere. And the world is such a beautiful place that being static is like swearing in a church; it's done, but it's just so wrong.
And it's true that wherever you are, it's never where you want to be. But I do believe that eventually, after seeing relatively enough, you'll find somewhere you won't want to run away from.
And, true, it may sound a little lonely and it may feel like it sometimes. But going back to whatever place and having friends waiting for you wherever warms your heart that little bit more.
And I can't wait to move again. Because going back home only serves to remind you why you left it in the first place.
And,I need to go now.
I've been static for long enough.

If it's pre-Dawn, is it still called twilight?

It's not exactly insomnia if what keeps you up are coughing fits. The time is 06:25 and the sun is not, not yet. And the quiet is everywhere. And it's lovely.
For a couple of minutes I can imagine the world as my empty playground. Asleep, everyone looks so innocuous. If the room were empty, my breath would have an echo.
And this is just a bunch of jumbled thoughts mashed all together but what this feels like is peace and intimacy.
The birds are still sleeping. The sun is still not and right now, this silence is the most beautiful sound in the world.

I know why the caged bird sings

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

- Maya Angelou