In my anger I did not even title this post and have come back to write this as the title.

As a young child I retreated to my bedroom to under the blankets into my bubble. The bubble was my world where I could not get hurt, where I could look out and quietly ponder all that was reality without fear of attack because my ideas were not those of the norm. I just stepped out of that bubble moments ago again remembering, thinking, unable to focus on anything but drops of water creating rings as they landed on the inside of my eylids chrystaline clear. I am tired of being misunderstood.

Don’t let it bring you down. Do not give up and keep going. Maybe my focus is to unfocus? Inside my mind is a swirling momentous boomerang waxing and waining in stength and fortitude. I want to exude stamina. fuck. If I could prescribe myself ritalin I would. It’s a waiting game you know? You ask a question and then you wait. Wait! I’m running out of questions or am I running out of solutions?

It’s so easy to become excited about an idea and become entwined with it imagining the all of the possibilities and outcomes. I love it. I love feeling emotion. It is very lonely feeling this excitement without encouragement. No that is not it. It is like flying and not knowing how to land. It is like riding a bike and wiping out. It is like being a designer for 10 years and then realizing you hate it. It is the feeling of knowing you worked your fucking ass off for something that was an ideal of something else that was not of your own choosing. It is knowing that your choices are frowned upon and not accepted by many people who love you. It is knowing that you have this student loan debt that you have no idea how to pay off. It could be that you really want the bubble burst because you don’t get how to do it.

Your ideas are stupid and your thoughts are crazy. Your anxiety is going to kill you. Your work ethic is something to be questioned. You have sinned in the eyes of the lord. Too bad you wasted all that time. Where are you ads?

I don’t know where I’m going to land this time. Everything I know is wrong. Even when I’m right I’m wrong. You can figure it out on your own. I don’t know how to figure it out because I don’t know what IT is. Because IT is a piece of shit that I want top stomp on and be angry at for a really really really long time. IT does not care. IT does not feel. IT is a robot that conforms to societal norm and normal is not even fucking real. And why is money real? Monetary value sucks. I’m not the Jones’. I want out of the bubble. I really really want out of the bubble. I’m tired of knowing what to do but not how to do it.

I see the stairs. I see the door at the top. It’s always been there. When will it open so I can walk through it and stay on the other side?

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