Stimulated

Sparking anguish in a suitcase filled with infants
Hearts spring into a lift of brute grace instilled by inmates
Inside my head liberated by
Guns made of taped-together glass
I am here
and my mind is clear
But they are distinct
And I believe I think
this difference is better.

Coast

This places upsets me. I hate being at the beach, because it's an incessant reminder of how I hate swimming, how much I fear swimming in the ocean. How pitiful of a person I am rendered when put in isolation. I also hate family 'vacations' which are an endurance test and a superfluous waste of time simultaneously. For once I would appreciate my free time to not be adulterated by the idiotic notions of other peoples schedules and interpretations of what concepts like family and togetherness. I will not have my life bound by another's perception of me, or anything else at any point in time. When seniority becomes knowledge I'll be more apt to listen. But aging does not imply wisdom. Nor does it imply maturity. Whenever I find comfort in something it is taken from me. Whenever I put my faith in something, it is exposed as the result of my elated ignorance. It's problematic that I'm at my happiest when I'm at my least thoughtful. It is also troublesome to realize that, my family life can be held accountable for a frightening amount of my struggles. I am disatisfied with this life that I am being handed. I hate my parents.

Fear

I’m pretty well controlled by fear of one kind or another.

Fear of academic failure.

Fear of personal failure

Fear of isolation or loss beyond control

Every waking moment that I have to my disposal is mainly dominated by anxious thoughts and warped repetitive statements and perspectives which hold no place in my life. My existentialist, borderline dualistic approach to the obstacles and events that define my days is a double-edged sword. I am learning consistency, but it is hard to remain one way for even the shortest period of time. It seems like the only time everything was cut-and-dry black and white was when I child, when I was ignorant. I am unbelievably tired of ruining things, places, and connections that make me happy through no deliberate commitment towards such an outcome on my part. I am torn between living in the mood and brooding about how little I, and this life matters. Or at least how my perspective renders it so. You know you are thinking too hard too much when you can literally feel yourself processing every bit of information in an effort to understand the smallest shred of what is going on around you. I am not negative. I am overwhelmed. There is a definite difference between the two, and I wish it were perceived by more people. Fortunately I’m learning to escape my thoughts by keeping busy. Not just occupied but ridiculously involved in everything I do. Because I can’t handle relaxation. I can’t handle ‘idle’. Because doing nothing is the equivalent of putting my mind on a slope.