Break.

I took a break. I doubt anyone actually cares, but sometimes I take breaks.

The thing is. The thing is. I get so fucking sick of my own voice. I completely realize the irony of me blogging that feeling (and "blogging" is such a dirty word, one I don't even like to think about). I do. But someone recently told me that it's okay to rant, and so I rant. Occasionally.

I get sick of my voice. I get sick of my own opinions. If you're reading this and you're wondering whether I'm sick of hearing you talk as well, please believe me when I say that I'm not. Really. And there's no sarcasm there--I understand that the internet is the perpetual slayer of sarcasm. Other people...I like hearing other people talk. Other people are interesting. I like hearing about their lives, because their lives are not my life. Their thoughts are not my thoughts. Their feelings are not my feelings.

I know all about my life and my thoughts and my feelings, you see. I know what I'm thinking. All the fucking time, I know what I'm thinking. It drives me insane. Sometimes. Because my brain is never turned OFF (which is good, I guess, since otherwise I would be dead, which I'm not so keen on). I feel like a hamster on a wheel in here sometimes. Squeaking along. Always squeaking along.

Does everyone feel like this sometime? Do most people look at themselves in the mirror at some point and just go... "Oh my God. SHUT UP"? We must. Right? Because we all have our ways of turning off that annoying yap yap yap yap yap yap...

I do TV. Other people do heroin. I think I came out pretty well on the addiction spectrum, but the fact that I'm on the addiction spectrum at all is a little distressing.

Little by little, I'm starting to look forward to this summer more and more. I'm terrified, yes. There's so many things that I haven't planned out, and for someone with a mental hamster-wheel as frenetic as mine, that's not the best state of affairs. But. BUT. I would so like a chance to see what's out there. You know? Because I've spent the last three years LOCKED UP in Suburbia. And Suburbia's nice for a while, but my hamster wheel keeps reminding me that I have been here for a while and I am almost 21 and I am kind of ready to GO.

And obviously that feeling is hyper-complicated with other emotions and pulls and pushes because human beings are not controlled experiments.

So rant: off. We'll see if I actually have the courage to leave this on my little ass-rag of a blog (still hate that word).