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Living in a rat infested box. But the rats have powerful minds. Need to get out. Into the open world where pain and pleasure unit. Helplessness guided by the helpless. Need to get out. I keep going on with my life of failure. Not total failure, failure of school and home and of love. Pressure building all around my face. My eyes have become nearly saturated because of terrible thoughts of necessity and hope. The way I’m going now I will never leave high school. Need to change.
Leaving home is always what inspires that thought. How can that thought be such incredible bullshit when it sits so real and inviting. Emerson says to always trust that little flicker of light, and that flicker of light is sending bright rays to proceed in that drastic action. But why do I hold back when it seems so logical. “The only way is through” says Spencer. I could go through… I’ve just lost words. My hands are so shakey and my poets(?) are fucked. Just gotta keep thinkin. Just gotta keep grabbin on to the little happy things that I still have. Just gotta keep searchin for intuition…. For a hand to hold on to.
I'm finally leaving. This environment is toxic; it brings out the worst in me, and I hate being the worst anything. Especially when it's "human I can be." I'm going to Florida, then I'm going to Michigan, then maybe I'm coming back to Maryland. All things considered I'd love to work for PRS: the factory is close enough to the Atlantic that I could hypothetically live there, and close enough to Annapolis that I could spend time with the people who mean something to me.
Everyone is leaving. I thought I was going to have one person in the county to connect with, since she is going to school in Annapolis, but it's pretty abundantly clear that she doesn't want to spent time with me. That doesn't really bother me, it just means that instead of being in a place I hate with a person I love I am in a place I hate with no one. It gives me an excuse to never come back here.