When I'm at war with myself, I ride.

Have you ever listened to "Ride" from Lana del Rey? If you haven't, then you should. Its great. And its me.

Theres this part that goes: I was a singer, not a ver popular one, but once i had dreams of becoming a beautiful poet. But upon an unfortunate series of events, saw those dreams dashed and divided like a million stars in the night sky that i wished on over and over again, sparkling and broken. But i didnt really mind because i knew that it takes getting everything you ever wanted and then losing it to know what true freedom is.

When the people i used to know found out what i'd been doing, how i'd been living, they asked me why but, there's no use in talking to people who have a home, they have no idea what its like to seek safety in other people, for home to be wherever you lie your head.

I was always an unusual girl, my mother told me i had a chameleon soul, no moral compass pointing due north, no fixed personality. Just an inner indecivesiness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean. And, if i said i didn't plan for it to turn out this way i'd be lying, because i was born to be the other woman, i belonged to no one, who belonged to everyone, who had nothing, who wanted everything with a fire for every experience and an obsession for freedom that terrified me to the point that i couldn't even talk about. And pushed me to a nomadic point of madness that both dazzled and dizzied me.

-

I.... I'm angry. I'm angry all the time. I've been angry for months now. I feel like I can't take it. I just want to say fuck it, and leave. And don't think. I can't stop thinking. I've become one of those romantics (the movement). I'm sad, and I'm desperate. I feel like the earth is swallowing me up, and i've lost the strenght to fight it, but i don't want any help, either. Because i can get out myself. I know. I'm just tired. I'm so tired of everything, of these straps around my body, holding me, not letting me go. I'm tired of this thing in my head that holds me back, that blinds me, that mocks me. I'm out of my way. And i'm all over the place. I lost strenght. I lost myself, and i can't... i can't see, and i can't find me. I'm blind and I can barely walk. I can barely breathe. I almost want a massive panic attack, because i feel like, that would probably be it. That would probably be the end of at least one of my head stuff.

And i hate people. I hate them so much because they're just a body, a corpse. Like i am. And i can't rely on anyone. And i hate that i can't stop this, i hate that i can't stop the universe from being a bitch to me, of always fucking me up. What is there going to be after all this? Because it better be a good thing. It better makes me happy. It better doesn't throw me over the edge every day of my life.

I hate that i can't find the words to describe anything. I hate that i feel lost. I hate that my eyes look sad but theres nothing in them. Not really. I hate that my eyebrows are always furrowed. They're always digged over my nose. And my lips are always a thin hard pressed line. And my hands are fists. I walk with resolution but there's nothing, really, i lost it, too.

I'm frustrated. I don't know what to grab, where to walk, who to talk to. I don't know what the fucking teen hormones are doing to me.

I'm really messed up right now, and hey mom, i'm gay, you know that, right? Stop looking at me like i'm a failure, with sad eyes, like i have something ugly on my face. I'm angry at you. I'm angry at your eyes, your mouth. I can't look at you without feeling this... thing somewhere in my mind, somewhere in my chest, without the voice inside my head screaming. I can't smile at you, not sincerely and you're not a happy thought in my head. The thing is, i want you to be, i want support, you know? But its okay for you to not give it to me, though.

I wanna leave. I need to get lost. Physically. I need to not talk to people i know, people i secretely hate, or love. I need to stop seeing every single detail, remember it, like i give a fuck, when i actually don't. My head is on its own, which is fucked. I want it to shut the fuck up.

Shut up.

Panic attacks

To don't know what the fuck is going on, to not have control, to not know what to decide, to get really confused, to can't go back, to not know what exactly you want. Then you can't breathe. Air feels like iron in your lungs. You start to shake and you feel like running, screaming because you feel like you're trapped. Your heart's racing and you feel like is going to stop at some point and you will die. Right there. You can barely see, everything goes black for a second and you feel out of yourself. And you feel desperate and anxious. Then you realize what's happening, after minutes of trying to breath, to calm down, to figure out why you feel like trapped, and start to gain control over your body again. And sometimes you feel like throwing up, sometimes you don't, those are the best cases.

To not know why this happens.

To don't have anybody, but why the fuck do I want somebody? I'm angry with myself. And I want to stop having the beginning of panic attacks and not the whole thing. Its just worse.

I want all of this to stop, I just forgot how to do it. And I hate it. And I hate feeling like this.

Are you awake?

There's this very thin line between dreams and ilusions. A very thin line you get to see when you're introduced to the real world when you're a teenager. And as a teenager because when you're a kid, you can't even allow the idea to your mind that "this" or "that" is very fucking hard to reach, to get. But then you're in high school, and is fucked but okay, what the hell, you can do this. But then, there's college. I personally think that college's the first step to your dreams. It depends on how you see it, though. But okay, you're in senior, you just found out what the hell you want to do with your life (or struggling, whatever), and your parents push, your friends push, and your whole family push. And you want to shut them down. And you eventually do, but then you realize that this is it. That you're no longer a kid and you have to decide things, things that are crucial to your life. And let's say your parents let you choose. They might push, but you can decide, and you suddenly (not SO suddenly, but lets say so) hate your country, and you hate that everything's about money, and fucking life's "free" but you'll fucking die if you don't have money to fucking survive. Because money = everything else. That's how fucked the world is. So you can't do what was top in your dreams list "go study somewhere else" and you have to settle. And by deleting that first thing, everything else written in that piece of paper is just harder. But you still don't give up. And then you're in college. Real World. Your dreams get fuzzy sometimes, they start becoming ilusions at times and you hate it. And sometimes you wonder why the hell God put you here. And why the hell everything's so damn hard. And why this and that; but what's left but to fight and work for whatever's there in that golden list?

There's a thin line between dreams and ilusions, in which you might think that things are like in the movies, maybe not your life itself but the context, the enviroment. Or the other people. Do not. Do not expect things to be the way you imagine, or the way the system pictures them to you. Just fight. Strive. And have that line in mind, always.

My other self says hi

Have you ever been to that place where you don't know, maybe, who you are? Because at some point of your life you changed and yes, you felt comfortable and good but as time passed by, something changed again and you don't know if it means that you're going back to your old self or maybe growing up. And it's so damn confusing that when you talk or even think, you can't trust yourself because you'll probably change your mind later. So if decisions where hard before, they're even harder now. And sometimes, sometimes you feel like there's a voice inside your head that mixes with your own and then there's a holy big fucking mess. Maybe it's only me, maybe I'm fucked which is probably true. But it's so hard, so stressful and sometimes I think that somebody will come and save me... "fix me" but I can't let myself believe that. I don't wanna need anyone, because in the end, everybody's on their own. So I go back to try and figure out myself and what the hell is happening.

I gotta keep myself free

There's this Foster the People song called "Call it what you want" (which is, of course, in what the title's inspired) that I love entirely. And it's so good because it basically says "Who cares? Fuck it" regarding to labels and social guides, which is what we're living right now, the whole world, and it's so... depressing, so sad. Because as teenagers, we're living in this... era where people push so hard and we just don't know what to do or say. Maybe even think. And it gets to a point where one just says (or screams) "leave me alone!", because living that way isn't healthy, living guided by what society says isn't being free. And I want to be free. I'm done with people, and society and everything. I'm gonna do what makes me happy. And no, I really don't care that this sounds so-not-me and kinda TOO positive, whatever, this is my nice way to not say "fuck it" or, explain it.