It's like I lost my balance and fell off the edge of the cliff. I fell over the edge. And I don't know if there's ground below; or how quickly it's rushing up to greet me. I thought it was a dream but you told me it was reality. Now it has tightened its grip around my neck and I can't breathe.
On a different page, I don't understand how people can't commit. I don't understand how irresponsible and nonchalant they can be. I just don't. I don't get that they don't feel sorry or ashamed for being late. An early practice was scheduled AT YOUR REQUEST. Everyone was told. YOU didn't turn up........ because YOU WOKE UP LATE. WTF. And everyone else was late, too. But that's besides the point. I could still have practised the moves with you. At this stage, I can only feel defeated. I want so much, too much, to give up on it all. But when I think of all the other people's efforts, I can't. I feel far too responsible for far too many things that I shouldn't.
I just want to run away, away from everything, everyone. I want to curl up in a hole underground, where it's quiet and I can be by myself; where I can sleep all day and do what I want at night; where I do not have to care about anything; where I don't have to eat or drink; where I can see the light at the end of the tunnel but never need to go toward it because I am perfectly content where I lay.
I understand why people develop addictions. I understand escapism. I want to lie; I want to drink; I want to watch porn; I want to forget. But these are not socially acceptable. I want to paint; I want to jam; I want to die, I want to feel good. I don't want to feel alive. I don't want to feel pain.
And completely irrelevantly, I wish I had a 22-inch waist. I feel so fat.
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