Angsty rant alert.
I think that I am overthinking this.
Part of the reason why I’m stuck is because I keep saying it to myself, over and over and over. “I am stuck, I don’t feel real, I am lost.” And instead of trying to fix it, I feel helpless and sad.
This has got to stop, obviously. But how?
I wish I could go somewhere for a while. Just me. I wish I could drop everything and hole up in a cottage in the Lake District with nothing but books and some vinyls and a stocked pantry of food. I’d go for walks and write and maybe paint things…and somehow figure myself out. And learn to be a pleasant person. But no. I’ve got to finish Harvey and school and everything and learn to be pleasant here and now. In Icetown.
Bleh. Fire and brimstone.
Hmph. Maybe I should really curse. Out loud. Loud and long and clear. Ala Hugh Laurie. Would that make me feel better?
...Maybe. It's worth a try.
Damn. Damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn. Damn.
Well, look at that. A dam of damns. Maybe that’s my problem. Maybe I'm dammed up. There's just too much going on inside of me and it is building and building and building and the pressure is becoming too much and soon I'll explode in a big nasty mess all over everybody.
But maybe, just maybe...an explosion would be a good thing. It would mean I could rebuild. Start from scratch. Like a blank piece of paper, "fresh with no mistakes in it" as Anne Shirley would say.
But...how?
Dammit.
