i try not to reason with myself

i’m at my dad’s boat in kansas.. i’m alone, listening to music, per usual.

i wrote my winston churchill paper rough draft the night before i left to come here.

monday our final is due for contemporary literature, by 11:59pm.

then come thursday my final for comp 2 is due. i’m not as worried about that tho, as that’s the winston churchill paper, and my rough draft is pretty good, and i don’t think i will have much editing to do. so unless the instructor sees something i don’t, i’m gold.

i passed so many decaying small towns to get here. they’re all the same. i was born in each one. i grew up in each, i never left. i’ll probably die there.

i’m bored.

last night was my stepmom’s 50th birthday party. my dad rented a band at the marina bar. it was loud, it was boisterous and it was filled with people. i walked outside, i went back in. i went outside again for air. i felt like i was swimming through a sea of people, and i was dying, suffocating.

parties suck. so i stayed for a few photo ops, had a piece of cake. smiled and yelled over the music to some people whose names slip my mind and faces blur together. then i hugged liz, said happy birthday, hugged my dad, and walked back through the blustery night to the slip and into the welcoming quiet darkness of the boat.

ha, i’m both happiest and saddest when i am alone. there’s this poignant sort of independence about it. freedom’s a heavy burden. the saying “freedom isn’t free” always conjures up ultra-american jingoistic portrayals of military shite to me, i often envision some eternally yelling drill-sergeant type spitting it at me, but it’s true in a way.

freedom has never felt at all free to me. it is scary, it’s treacherous. it stings in a cold, uncaring way. freedom always reminds me of how huge and unfeeling the universe is. it is an endless vacuum of emotionless, airless nothing, while still encompassing everything that matters to me within it.

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