(5.24.17) Yes, I know I’ve been posting a lot today. I think it’s helping me.
I have a lot of things I need to do and tomorrow is my last real day of school and I’m gonna need to somehow squeeze it all in. I have to give people back their things, I have to ask people for signatures, I have to have serious talks with some people. I don’t know how I’m going to do it all. I guess even though I’ve been kind of scared, it’s dawned on me how the only thing keeping me alive this whole year has been the constant assurance that this is gonna be over soon. Now, the thing I’m talking about is not over yet, it may never be over, but in a few months, I’m gonna be able to distance myself from it and look at it from a bit of a removed perspective. I’ve been afraid of becoming completely removed from this thing that’s responsible for my whole identity, but I know that I’m not going that far and I could become completely re-immersed in it if I chose and I most likely will be whether I make that choice or not.
I think there are a lot of underground desires that I have that have caused the stars to align this way. I received a waitlist update from NYU a few days ago, and they said that so far, they’ve admitted 925 more students off the waitlist and they still might admit some more. At this point, my hope has almost entirely faded, but I wish I could stop being on the line all the time.
I’ve been thinking about how long it’s taken me to build up any confidence in the things I do, and how hard it will be to build that same kind of confidence up for any other thing I pursue. And that’s still not saying that much, because I am not that confident in anything. I mean, okay, I’m not giving myself enough credit again, I can ACTUALLY DEAL WITH SOME THINGS NOW.
I am now going to talk about some things I really want to do now that I’m back in the sphere of being capable of wanting things. Cool. I really want to learn to drive a motorcycle sometime. I want to drive a motorcycle while wearing a leather jacket. I also want to learn how to pilot a plane. I think it’s just a combination of romantic appeal and the illusion of power. I think it’d be cool to impulsively sneak aboard a ship and become a sailor for a little bit. I feel like I wouldn’t get too seasick. I want to travel practically everywhere. Even Australia. If there’s a snake in my shower pipes, then maybe I can write a horror story about it. I want to go to the desert. I want to recreate Ferdinand Magellan’s little sea voyage and die in the Philippines. I want to write until I am empty and then fill myself up and write again. I want to open a theater and then abandon it and I want to make films and I want to start an underground mafia that operates under the guise of a really cool and obscure restaurant and I want to architect a whole city except that would make me feel too much like I am God and I want to go dancing and I want to be in a band and I want to start my own theatre troupe and I want to expose evil scandals and I want to do only everything I want for the rest of my life but that’s not gonna happen and I want to enjoy dressing up for funerals and when the apocalypse happens, I don’t want to be there for it.
No one is going to tell me how to dress. (I might wear my bra on the outside of my shirt tomorrow because my dad said it’s better than if my bra is visible underneath.) No one is going to stress me out of my mind every time I want to make plans. No one is going to tell me what I can and cannot do. No one is going to make me feel like I don’t have power over myself.
Don’t fool yourself, sunshine, this summer isn’t going to be like anything you’ve known. The past fucking year hasn’t. There are no exceptions to this new rule. Not now, not never.
MAYBE FATE WANTS YOU DEAD TOO.