I should call this blog "Unquirky". You know, like that TLC song "Unpretty". Whatever.
I haven't written anything quirky for...forever. And I don't know if I'll ever actually write anything quirky anytime soon. Life hasn't been quirky for some time now. Crap.
Right now, this instant, the only thing I have in mind is "Fuck that. Fuck the world." Oh, do pardon the French.
But, like I was saying...yeah, fuck that, fuck the world. Of course, I don't mean it in a rude way. I never do. Everyone knows that whenever I use that word, I'm only using it because it's in my vocabulary.
Right now, I feel simply overwhelmed. By what? I don't know. And I don't think I'll ever find out anytime soon. It feels as if the world's closing in on me, making it harder and harder for me to breathe. It's getting stuffy, it's getting warm, and I feel an imaginary drop of sweat trickling down the back of my neck. And my eyes...they hurt, they sting, and they are so tired that I can almost feel those tiny veins inside pulsating, working hard to circulate the oxygen in my blood.
I'm babbling. Nothing I say is making sense. But why, you ask me. Why? I simply don't know.
When explanations fail me, when feelings overwhelm me, and when my thoughts wander around in the galaxy and eventually get sucked into the black hole, I can come up with only one answer: I don't know.
I am all but 21 years of age. Maybe more like 21 going on 40. I feel so tired. So drained of...everything. It feels as though I've lived 40 years in the past few months alone. My rollercoaster ride gets more and more extreme.
Sometimes, the ups are so high that I could almost touch the stars. Those are the times when I felt immortal, almost godlike. Those are the times when I felt like I could do anything, I could overcome any challenge that came my way. But at the same time, those are the times that got me worried. I wondered when the rollercoaster would come to the end of its ascend to begin the long dip down. I can never ride on a wave of good luck for long, that I knew.
And so, slowly, the rollercoaster slows down a little. It pauses on the highest point of that loop. Then I look down. It's a long way down. I wonder how long it wil last. I look up. And I feel glad that I've come this far, to be up so high, to be able to almost touch the stars.
Now that I think of it, I'm right there at the highest point. Looking up, looking down, wondering when that dip will start. I'm riding high on my wave of luck now with my trusty surfboard, but somehow, I know that in a matter of days, maybe hours, maybe minutes, maybe seconds, I'll lose my footing and the waves will come crashing, roaring like thunder down on me.
A million and one questions are burning in my mind at the moment. And they all start with..."Why?" My stomach lurches with the certainty that I do not know what the answers to these questions are. And I long to cry, to sob, to scream, to tear at my hair, to...anything.
Anything to get the rollercoaster moving. Anything to fall off my surfboard. Or anything to stay on it. Anything.
I don't know.
This is one of those days when I feel unquirky, unpretty. And this is one of those days that makes me want to cement myself in a dark bomb shelter somewhere far away from anything living and breathing.
Fuck that. Fuck the world. I'm going to bed.