Ignore this. Ignore this. Ignore me for right now, because it's a real shitshow over here.
But I just need to write, and to pass this energy somehow.
I've heard that things are not this way everywhere in the world. Now, that's a relatively ignorant thing to say; or rather, it makes me sound quite exceptionally ignorant. But, I suppose I am, to some extent. I've been exclusively stateside for several years now, and I guess I've forgotten that the rest of the world can't be described as just "that other country just like America."
I mean...obviously. But sympathize with me for a second. I live in an incredibly loud nation, and everyone seems to be obsessed with every shade of American business; that is, whenever they're not self-obsessing.
And I'm a little sick of it. I could use a getaway. I could use some quiet. Happily, there are such places within the States, places of peace and quiet, of wilderness, of spirit. I'm going to those places, soon.
But I guess I'm tired of such abrasive American attitudes. Specifically, I have absolutely had it with people who systematically and unapologetically put their own agendas and wants before the needs of others. I live in a nation of self-indulgence, sure; but even worse, I live in a nation of thieves.
Takers of rights, stealers of soapboxes, quenchers of revolutionary thinking. Because somehow, it's still okay to...
...I trailed off there, because I'm a coward. I can't say what the bottom line is for me. I can't express what I'm really thinking, because I know that it all stems from the root of what is wrong with me. I wish there were somebody who understood what was going on with me without my saying anything, because I want impossible things. What's the big deal, Becca? Why can't you just be honest for a goddamn second? What are you so afraid of, girl who claims to be fearless?
I dance around my core, like a proto-planetary disk, because I don't want to implode like a dying star. But I'm almost past that critical point when there isn't anything left that I can do to prevent that inevitable supernova. I will die, somehow, if I don't talk about this sometime soon. Because it has to be fixed, and I don't know how to fix it, and once I say things out loud, they aren't so impossible to overcome.
For now, I will just say that I yearn to live open-armed. I want the tired and lonely and broken souls to come into mine, and realize that there is so much of a reason to live. I feel for their tiny tremors and oceans of tears, and I want those tremors to mean something, and the oceans to rise in tidal waves, and for those trauma symptoms to become sources of energy and power in otherwise feeble, tired, violated, powerless little bodies. I want to help us create out of what others have attempted to destroy. I want to help.
Also, I want to get better. I want to get better. I want to get better. Please. I will get better.
For now, though, I'll write my thesis and continue to live a wonderful life.