6E: My fist through a locker.

Nothing makes sense anymore.

I just feel like I've stepped into a parallell unconscious reality where everything feels vaguely lucid but just not quite right. I can't put my finger on it. I feel like my brain is turning to mush. I just sit and think about how things just don't seem to be adding up. There's this very distant quality to reality today. I can't focus.

I have to write an opinion piece for Writing for Newspapers tomorrow. I have no idea what I'm going to have it be about (possibly Hamas... or Hummus.) All my classes hardly register these days. I'm dulled by how pointless and boring they all feel. and then there are discouraging stories from Haasim about how his stories aren't getting printed and what's more they'd already been assigned to other people. Fuckin' Sheridan Sun.

This from a post I partially wrote earlier. It also included a massive tirade that was overflowing with obscenities and was basically a cry for help, but that's not what I need. I need to straighten myself out, buckle down, and concentrate on what I'm doing and where I'm going. This all stems from my inability to write my opinion piece, coupled with my intense lethary about schoolwork in general, and my general frustration about life. My fears about my professional life, my angst about my personal life... stuff I should be getting out on this blog, but am not.

I'm the most self-centered person in the world, but only on this blog. In general, I don't prefer to talk about myself, but this is where I come to do that. Other people have problems. Other people have problems more severe than mine. There is a world at war and a universe outside my door and all I can think about is how badly I want to smash Mitrovica's face.

I hate feeling the need to censor myself. I hate feeling like I haven't matured since age 14. I hate feeling that everybody in the world is or could be happy right now except for me, stuck in a perpetual cycle of misery and not being able to reach out for help because the wrong person will inevitably read this and blow it right out of proportion. I'm insane with self-loathing. I'm turning back into my Grade 10 self. Not cool. I wanna be friendly, I wanna be funny, I wanna be me; the me that people like. But I'm stuck. I feel put-upon. I don't know how much more I can take before I just yell out "fuck you" and ruin whtever front of decency I'd established.

People have the wrong ideas about me. It's insane, I'm like a split personality, but I'm not usually like this, I don't think. But there are people who I'll let get to know me, and people I just won't. People I'll be warm and friendly to, and people I'll just be rude and curt with. Maybe you know which category you fit into. Maybe you don't.

Fuck.

I need my fucking life.

Let me go.

Keep on rockin'
Williams