in_praha

I'm in my darker place.

I haven't felt like going out, seeing friends.  Tomorrow's my first cross country practice.  How is that supposed to work?
My sleeping patterns have been excessive, I'm only hungry at night, during my few waking hours.  I don't want to do anything.
I don't want to go on vacation for three days.  All I want is for my father to get it into his head that he can't stop me from going to that one country because I feel like I'm suffocating in this stupid, tiny space.  I'm suffocating.  I've never been one to feel satisfied with monotony.  Please, please, please let me go.  This is my head we're dealing with.  If you don't let me go, I might die.  I don't want to be but a moving sack of bones and disappointment.  Let me go.

You know what, fuck that class.  I hope you have fun with those dumbfucks.  I hope you enjoy your drooling sheep eating out of your hands.  I am a motherfucking genius.  Now what?

My body still leaks like a sieve.

I realize that I want certain things in life: value, accomplishment, domesticity.

I actually want a nice husband and two or three children with wild hair and weird names.  I want a big house near the forest or in the mountains with tons of windows and a garden.  I want a library, full of novels and poetry.  Art everywhere.  A big kitchen.  Lots of open space. 

But this is only after I shatter the current state of affairs.  I'm so ambitious...

Dear Zach Condon,

Fuck me.

Love,
Someone enamored with your brilliance.

I haven't written in a while, mostly because I haven't had anything to say.  It's harder for me to write now, I can't sound nearly as eloquent.  I'm so ridiculously out of it.  I'm lagging on assignments.  I'm tired.  I thought that it was all because I'm just inherently lazy, but I've actually been through a lot shit lately and I never properly had time for bereavement.  Like the grandparents.  In retrospect, that was devastating.  But.  I didn't let it get to me.  My best friend is miles and miles and miles away.  Uh, what do I do now?  My parents are idiots.  Great.  School is draining me.  College is near.  Teenagers are insane.  There are things I want to do and other things that just have to get done, but I don't know how.  How do I balance the innate anguish of being seventeen with everything else?  Someone, please write me a manual on becoming a successful adult.  Please.

I realize that a lot of my friends tend to underestimate the kind of good time you have with four friends in an empty house.  There's no need for a wild party with people you've never me before and vomit all over your shoes. 

We spent the night chainsmoking and drinking kirsch.  I definitely got the drunkest because I'm an idiot and I never eat before I drink.  We roamed the mountainous neighborhood in the dark, puffing our little tobacco sticks, hoping that my parents didn't decide to drive by.  I live so close.

My friend L and I walked paces ahead of the group and talked about are current sexlessness and how he wants love and I just want a dick.  I wish I were a man so I could love him but even then, could I?  I told him how I loved fedoras and cigarettes and if I could find a man with both to stick around, everything would be perfect.  But we're both dreamers and nothing is perfect.

I walked home about an hour ago, in other clothes because mine reek of smoke and I came home with wet hair because I couldn't have my mother lecture me about the dangers of smoking blahblahblah.  I didn't mention the liquor or the fact that 80 proof is strong for me.  I told my mom that I loved having a small group of people together, we make such lovely sounds with our voices in the echoing house.  It's such a blissful way of enjoying yourself.

I have an A- in chemistry.  I don't know how I've pulled that off...

I'm going shopping with my mother today and after I'll have a nice evening with one of my besties.  She's leaving very soon so we have to abuse the time we have by throwing small kickbacks at her house.  We'll be sober, though.

I made a chocolate cake.  It's divine, light as the clouds just after a rain.  I tried to make buttercream frosting, but much to my dismay...there was only about a half cup of confectioner's sugar.  That really devastated me.

Do you sense my sarcasm?

I end here.

I should've said no.

But I can't change that now.  time is a separate, unalterable dimension.  You are never in the present and the past at the same time.  Time is linear.  So I could not effectively go back, visit the past me and rewire my brain because time is not circular or flexible.  Time is fucked up.

But if we could change time, we'd have the answer to the world at our fingertips.  Then why would we even bother living?

I'm exhausted.  My limbs feel like they are encased in lead.  It hurts to breathe.  My friend is going to get me a pack of cigarettes in a week, I've been in a bitter mood without my nicotine.  I heard something on NPR about outlawing tobacco and that seems ridiculous.  Everyone knows tobacco is carcinogenic.  If you're so fucking afraid of it, don't smoke.  This is where the libertarian in my decides that really, it's up to the individual.  Why do you care if I smoke crack?  It's not your life I'm fucking up.

I really wish I had some drugs right now.  I hate that word, drugs.  What else do I call them?  Illicit substances.  Fuck that, too many syllables.  Those silly drug things.  Those silly illegal things they told you not to mess with.  Who'd have thought that I'd love them oh so much and sadly for the wrong reasons.  Why is it that I have to refrain from expressing my desire to evade my problems?  Do you really think me so righteous? 

I remember that I tried to reconnect with an old, forgotten acquaintance and I really couldn't understand him the same way I did just months prior.  It was like he was once again some stranger I noticed in passing, hair missing and eyes downward cast.  He was such an insecure person, never trusting that I wasn't, in fact, fucking random people.  Just him.  He told me that cheating was the worst thing anyone could commit.  I've never met anyone more blinded by their own hypocrisy.  He had some sort of faith in these little rules and arbitrations, probably hiding himself from some past I wasn't allowed to see.  He told me we'd talk one day, but I didn't call him back. 

Then there was that other fellow whom I'd had this persistent admiration for.  I craved him, in a sense.  No.  I craved the idea of him and me together in some sort of ocean of skin and linens.  That lasted for years and now I doubt I'd recognize his face.  Sometimes I meet people who remind me of him or I get the random phonecall consisting of, "hello.  let's hang out".  But of course I'm busy or he's busy or neither of us wants to see the other.  I think he's the only person that got to me beneath the flesh.  I don't miss it.  not much.  Especially when I think of the drugs and the lies we told each other.  How we lamented those AP exams we had to take while hungover and that time I could feel the warmth of his skin through my shirt when were sharing the microscope.  But I don't miss it any more than I would a satisfying meal.  I do wish we could catch up on things.

The last one I'm going to talk about was arrogant, yet enamored with me.  I don't know what it was about me, but he couldn't get enough.  I remember most his smell.  That first whiff came from that strange morning in the stacks.  I think he thought I was brilliant.  Then there was that one time when my lips carefully traced the stubble on his lips and  his tongue searched my palate for something sweet.  I doubt he found what he was looking for.  I tend to come off as this enchanting, lovely plaything.  But I'm really quite layered and detached.  I didn't live for him and I think that honestly shattered some farfetched image he had of me.  I cut my hair and wore less makeup and that, for some reason, made me seem more callous and abrasive even.  I didn't like his accusations and it frustrated me and I unleashed that little bitch that only appears when I've been scorned.  I told him I didn't want to see him again and that I didn't want to love him and made some shit up about how much he hurt me and I went on my way.  He staggered off like an abused fucking puppy and I think I felt a little remorse.  But only for so long.  I don't miss him either.

Now I'm going to have to find a slinky dress in an unusual color with adornments and an air of coquette so that I may successfully maintain this one the entire evening.  But I won't fuck him.  He's such a nice boy.

There is nothing  I appreciate more than a day off from school, eating unhealthy amounts of yogurt and watching No Reservations whilst I contemplate catching up on homework.  I'm sorry.  School is really consuming my life.

Prom is next week.  I do not have a date.  I'm not going to pretend that I am not deeply annoyed--I am--but it's really not a big deal for me.  Do I honestly wish to get stuck next to some douchebag making bathroom jokes all night?  Uh, I'll pass.  And then there's the party after, during  which I will get mildly intoxicated and probably end up flirting with someone I don't even like and a date would seriously impede upon these plans.  I can't have that, really.

I need some drugs right now, some headfucking, fast paced drugs that get your brain all confused and set in one direction.  I want that sensation where the only thing that matters is what's right in front of me, the passing scenery becomes just blurs of color.  Kind of like being inside of a car on the freeway at night, the red and yellow and white lights becomes just linear brushstrokes on the window, the driver only recognizes the point ahead, the offramp, where he wants to end.  There is a goal.
But alas, I have no drugs.  Not even weed, which I'm really not in the mood for.  Caffeine will make me shake and shit and piss and I really don't want to pee out the acidity of coffee when I have a motherfucking UTI.  You didn't need to know that, sorry.  Who cares.

I have a lot of things to catch up on, I'm going to attack them now before I get lost in something like I don't know, uselessness.  As per usual.  I am not clearly expressing anything.  Have a lovely evening, I mean it.

actually, I lied.