Catharsis

Been a long time. Here's to March, and the oncoming spring.

So many people I know pretend they have standards. Some don't. I think I'm a mix of both. I don't really know what I want from someone else. Maybe because they don't meet my standards, so I expect nothing from them. It's a damn shame people can't settle for less, or they accept less without settling for it. I myself constantly commit the sin of taking what I can get. Be it love, life, truth, or goals. The only thing yet to fail me are my dreams. So while you're happy with what you have, I'll constantly be looking for a girl with sunflower colored hair and blue eyes with a face I used to know. Because that's my impossible standard.

I'm trying to get better at guitar and writing while I waste my life away in college. Because I feel like as long as I can salvage something from these years, I won't regret how I've spent my time a decade from now. Though for whatever reason, I still don't feel like picking up skills accomplish anything if you've got nothing to put them to.

I wonder if I can buy a drug that fuels motivation. If I could naturally produce ambition, I wouldn't be where I'm at. But if I don't accomplish anything without striving for it and actually feeling like I've done it because I tried and succeeded, my accomplishments become worthless. I know on my death bed I'll feel I've lived my life to the fullest, but right now I don't feel as if I'm living at all. I go back and forth between manic and depressive, and I try to get by without thinking of suicide. I don't intend to waste my life, but that's what I feel I'm doing.

I don't have much to write about, since even though I contain so many thoughts I'm fit to burst, they're all things I've said all my life. What I desire more than anything right now is a sense of closure to the depression era of my life, so I can start anew and be content. They say it's teen angst, but I feel as if this will carry on into my late twenties.

Let's go somewhere. I don't care who I go with, or where we're going, but I don't think I can stay here much longer and survive. I hate the cities, but maybe that's because I almost have no money. The only emotion that actively moves in my body now is wanderlust. If I don't get out, if I don't move, my sense of adventure will die as I attend these classes. I've got to find something worth living for. For a generation who spends so much time learning and on the move, we never really go far enough. Because if we did, we wouldn't have the time to complain about our lives. This town and this room are beginning to feel like a massive stagnant pool of water. I don't want to live my life here.

It's 2010 of March, I'm eighteen, and I already feel like I've entered my mid-life crisis.

Maybe that's a good thing.