life poses so many unanswerable questions.

how can one make sense of it all? with virtually no knowledge in a world so vast & saturated in a lack of understanding, how can anyone be sure they're making the right decisions? "right" is so subjective, anyhow. claire said i can never be sure i'm making the right decision, but that i should make it anyway, "head first with no regrets." no holds barred. is that to say i should up & move to missouri to try a relationship which may or may not work, with a boy who may or may not love me? no. i mean wouldn't i fucking love to, but i can't let myself. i have to maintain the track i'm on. i'm trying to better myself, after all, & who can truly love someone who doesn't love herself? no man i know. & i want my love fucking real. i need it to be real. i need to feel it in my heart, soul, mind, knees, stomach, & everywhere in between. i need it to fill me up, & fuel my actions. i just need it to be fucking real. but isn't it always real? i mean i tell people all the time i love them, & i mean it. but what does that even really mean? maybe she's right, & i'll never be sure. but perhaps i will. everyone says "you just know", & i haven't yet decided whether or not i believe that, but.. i suppose it could be a comforting thought. does claire really know? did my parents really know? or did they just think they knew? or did they subconsciously know the whole time that it wasn't right & they weren't willing to admit it to themselves until the last straws? & what about all of the changes people go through in life? what if, as a species, scientifically, we aren't supposed to be monogamous for our whole lives? i mean, i still believe that i was meant to be with everyone i have been with, but is that also to say that i'll continue to meet men i'm meant to be with? how can i reassure myself that this is the one? & is my uncertainty by itself a huge red flag telling me right to my face that he isn't the one? then i come back to whether or not there really is a "one", or whether there are several ones. am i refusing to acknowledge to myself what i possibly already know deep down? am i willing to admit that i know that he isn't the one? why should i be so terrified of what i know, when all i'm complaining about is not knowing? what if i do know, & i won't let myself know that i know? oh my god, i'm just typing in circles. do i need to be with some other "meant-to-be"s before i can be sure that he's the last one? & who's to say my feelings are even real anyway? i mean, in fact, feelings aren't real. i mean, nothing is real. so what the fuck? what are you supposed to do with that information? i won't go down that road at present; it will lead me to too many more unanswerable questions. & i have enough of those on my plate already. okay, so life is what you make of it. & what have i made? nothing. maybe some art, some poetry, some people smile. but what have i really done? learned? i hate being aware of the meaninglessness of everything. i almost feel like ignorance might be bliss in that instance. the big problem i'm having is that i don't know what any of this means, or what i feel, or what is genuine. but the one thing i do know - that nobody knows anything - is the one thing i wish i didn't know. in a literal sense, all of my questions are impossible to answer, because there exist no true answers. for once, my typing all this out has done nothing whatsoever to comfort my aching heart. i long for fantasy, for romance, for a life i imagine. but i don't want to do any of the work it will take to create that life for myself. i'm not so willing to put in the immense time & effort it will inevitably take to have the things i so desire. so where does that leave me? exactly where i started. standing in the middle of a road, with endless directions to choose from. innumerable choices to be made. everything is uncertain & nothing makes sense, because nothing truly exists. i can try to go to work, go to school, go to bars, but what am i doing, really? & where am i going? & what good does any of it do me? i suppose it staves off the boredom. but if i can't trust what i think or how i feel, what is there left to help me take action? so should i just surrender unto myself? how can i pull myself up & out & into the world? & in deciding "what to do" for the rest of my life, will i ever be certain? will i ever be sure of anything, ever? maybe this is why i turn to drugs. i don't have these days as often when my brain is being regulated by outside factors. i'm only a few days off, so they haven't even cleared my system fully. it's about 7 PM now, & i think i've waited long enough to start drinking. i can't handle this circular thinking anymore for today. i need to be distracted. so that, once again, as always, i can avoid my problems, insecurities, uncertainties, & fill my time with meaningless, unrealistic fantasies until tomorrow, at which point the real world will interrupt my dreams again. is that all life is? avoidance? i'd like to think there's more, & i guess i know there is, but knowing nothing is real puts a damper on every event, even the ones that cause irresistible smiles, blushes, & giggles. it's easy to make wishes that will never come true. it's hard to force yourself to attempt to bring about the changes that could possibly create a desirable outcome. hopefully, someday soon, i'll decide that i'm tired of wishing, hoping, thinking, & praying, & i'll be ready to start doing. but i have a feeling it's not today.

the problem with addictions

i think is that they never really go away.. i mean, as i sit here, still contemplating whether or not to grab a razor & go to town, i wonder what makes me want to. i just watched this movie that involved cutting, & just the thought of it makes me so.. desirous? but why, after all this time, would i still want to go there? i'm much happier now. i'm much more comfortable & confident with myself & who i am. i know i'm a good person. so what makes the desire to cut so strong? have i just instilled it so deeply within my psyche that it's the only coping mechanism i know? will i ever be truly free of the want? doubtful. i mean, how can you go through something like that & then ever look at a razor in a normal way again? i doubt i'll ever be able to see one & not immediately go to that place within myself. but is it so inherently bad to visit a dark place like that, if i don't indulge myself? is it okay to just stop by, or pass through, without the intention of stopping to stay a while? i suppose the worry has more to do with the fact that i never had the intention of staying so long. & the scars are a constant reminder of what i've done & what i think of doing so often. & they'll certainly never go away. but would i want them to? i've said before that i'm not ashamed, which i still believe. maybe sometimes i think it'd be nice not to feel so damaged. but am i still damaged? does that ever go away? could i have fixed myself, more or less? maybe i'd be less likely to travel down that path if there was more of an incentive for avoiding the behavior. i mean, i know from experience what i get from doing it, but what do i get from not doing it? nothing. not even a sense of accomplishment. i just go on. which is all well & good, except that it isn't. the desire is still there. it's always in me. when i see a knife at work, or when i use one at home. seeing pills on television or in my cabinet. alcohol in the store or in my wine glass. even seeing a drunk person, a prescription drug addict, a fellow cutter.. it all comes back. & what can i make of it? i obviously still consider myself to be one. i don't think i'll ever lose that label, even if i'm the only one enforcing it. nobody ever talks about it. people don't really ask about it. it's just there, like a scarlet letter. hey, by the way, people, i'm kind-of crazy & tend to dabble in self-destruction. i identify so much with that part of myself. but how much of that is who i am? mathematically, it was a regular part of my life for about.. 4 years? & i'm 21, so that's like a fifth of my life? just about as long as i've been in the work force. another thing i identify myself strongly with. but that's not self-destructive of course. i just so love tragedy, & the torture. lol how weird is that? it makes me somehow sickeningly pleased. like seeing the red. perhaps in the beginning i just wanted to feel again. i remember feeling catatonic when we got to ID. i remember listening to the music i listened to, & feeling like there wasn't any light. i was addicted to the song "pain", maybe because i did feel so numb. or dead. zombie-esque, if you will. maybe i just wanted to feel something again, even if it was just pain. but that wasn't always the reason, right? it evolved. what did it become for me? sometimes it was relief, sometimes it was punishment.. i'm slightly ashamed to admit that sometimes it might've been boredom. loneliness, depression, self-loathing.. of all the reasons i have done it in the past, what is making me want to now? i use words like delicious to describe it. if that's not crazy & unbalanced, i don't know what is. anyway, i'm getting rather sleepy. & although i feel no sense of accomplishment, i have yet again managed to resist the urge. this boy could be helping. but who knows what he'll be like tomorrow, or the next day? he can be a little hot & cold sometimes.. i suppose i'm used to it by now. & if i'm going to give away my heart, i might as well do it for real & deal with the consequences. i know i'm strong, & i can make it. if it breaks, it breaks, but i can fix it. & i think the break will be worth how happy he makes me sometimes. claire has seen it, & i know too. we are who we are. maybe if i let myself go, if i can give myself away, a certain kind of freedom will come into my life. & maybe all the irresistible smiling & blushing & giggling will be good enough if & when it all ends. because if it does end, i'll know that it just wasn't right, & that there's something even better out there. i hope i remember all that when i'm sweeping up my heart.