I’m a nut, and sometimes I want to screw things up. Sometimes my life seems too stable and I want to go out and do stupid things and I know they are stupid and I know they could ruin my life, and I get this feeling that it would be all right. I might get away with it. I might not. Either way, life will get intense and I care more about that than being happy.
Well, so far, it’s just a feeling. I’ve never acted on it without being manic. But I just can’t explain it. It’s like a well of desire rises inside my stomach and my chest and I want, I want, I want. I don’t even really know what I want. A spark of some kind. I just want to go out and scream. And I never scream. Never. So it’s like this part of me that I don’t even know, and I don’t know where it comes from and I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t even know if I should worry about it since mostly, it doesn’t do anything… except the one time, when I was sick.
Maybe I do fear happiness. Happiness seems deadly, in some way. I want trouble. Problems. Isn’t that why I like fluther? People have all kinds of problems to work on, and when I work on other people’s problems, I don’t need to make up any of my own.
Do you fantasize about running? Surely everyone does at some point in their life? I’ve never done it. I’m too fucking responsible. But I want to. There are people I want to see. Things I want to do. It’s this energy and it is demanding and I don’t have any place to put it.
Sometimes even depression seems better than being stable. Even dying seems better. Crazy. I know. I can’t explain it. I know I don’t really want to die, but when I’m really desperate, things matter more, even if I can’t hold them together. So there I times when I crave that desperation, even though I don’t let it come near me.
Sorry. I have no answers. Just more questions. I think a lot of it is the feeling that people don’t understand and don’t approve and are afraid of me when I feel this way. Or afraid of anyone who feels this way. They don’t know what we’ll do. And I don’t know if it matters than I’ve never done anything that crazy. I’m as socially conformist as anyone could be. But beneath my bland exterior lies… lies… who knows what lies beneath the surface the world sees?