Vortex
	Where is she? Why did Doc do that? He doesn’t even fuckin’ care; Ms. Custer probably made him do it, I bet. I really wish that this had never happened. My parents are going to know now and I will be ruined. All of my privacy will be exposed. I will not have a life. No, I will not have my life; my life: the one that I have worked for for all of my life. It will be torn up and shredded: like a Credit Card. My life didn’t have worth, though. And don’t expect me to ever be able to rebuild my entire emotional and mental infrastructure. It will never hold my onus. I can’t even adapt to my life. I don’t want to change. I have grown to my life: I won’t let go easily.  Maybe my parents will just dismiss it like they do everything else. It might just process like a phase: lasting a very short time, so short that my parents will totally forget about it forever. And ever. And maybe I can convince all my friends that I am cured of all the goddamned depression, leaving only me the wiser. That’s how it should be: your life is yours to solve, yours to live. Well let me live it! Alone! It’s your own fault, though, that everyone knows. Why the hell did you tell people? Searching for help? How are they going to help you? You need to help yourself! Help. Help. Help. Who says you need it, anyway? Psychologists? Teachers? Friends? Adults? Well, don’t you have to admit to yourself that you need help first? It’s up to me. Yes. I need help. No, no, no, no, NO, I don’t want it! It’s my screwed-up life and I think I like it just fine the way it is. It’s fine. It’s just dandy. The world is my oyster. I am content. And do you want to know why? Because my life has always been in this state. I don’t know any other life. I believe the word is solipsism. How can I know anything else but my own life and experiences? Movies: a beautiful medium. I can take on another character by extrapolating them from the movie. I am the character. Yeah right. I can’t do that. But I can. And I do. And that is my only other view of life and how it can be better than what I have! So, why is mine perceivably so bad? That is one question I would really love the answer to. But I don’t have it. I want it. Give me a better existence, please. I want a new life. I want a trade-in. Oh god! Virginia Woolf! And her. My beloved, who is another’s beloved. I can’t stand it. I want her. I want her for my own. I am shaking so badly right now. So, so, so badly. I want out. I want to live another life. Get rid of this one; give me a new one. Even if it is slightly better than the current one. Anything will do. Please help. Meaning: me. Me help me. I can do anything. I can solve all of life’s problems. All of my life’s problems. And isn’t that all each of us is supposed to be and does worry about: themselves? Maybe I’ve been too kind by helping others at the same time. No, that’s selfish. That’s very selfish. “Yeah, we know we’re alright/ Though lives will come and go/ Each life has its place”. Where, oh where, oh where the hell where is my place. I don’t think that I really have one. “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.” I don’t even qualify as a player. I’m not even a damned prop. I’m an agent…for myself. And I can’t even find myself a part! I can’t. No matter how hard I try, no matter how much I want to, no matter the amount of begging and pleading for a place to call my own and a decent role, I still remain a lost soul. A lost soul with no recompense. No forgiveness. Or freedom. Or love. Or friends. Or faith. Faith? Faith? Faith? Where can I put my non-existent faith? Where you can you stuff an abstract entity? Where can I find faith? Do have to learn it or earn it? I guess I haven’t had cause to possess faith. I guess I just didn’t learn how to. I want it. I want to just find out what it is. I think it’s something like trust, I think?! Well, I can’t find the faith to trust anyone, or the trust to put faith in something. I think that that is a bloody shame. It’s pathetic. Just like my life is. Huh. I guess I really needed to write something. I need to go somewhere reclusive for a while and be left alone to think my life through. To figure it out. To solve a few problems. I could solve a lot if I could just have some time. Just a little. Then I’ll be okay. Then I’ll be alright. So we’re okay, we’re fine. I’m very much alright, right now. You’re wrong kid- you’re not. You really are not. Vortex of my mind tumbling down into my mindful oblivion