I like to travel, read, write, dance and pretend. At the moment I am suffering an insufferable phase of self-aggrandizement, premature maturity and lack of wit.
If you think you can help me out of this funk, write me at idaman.z@gmail.com
My head is near exploding. I wouldn't be surprised if one morning I wake up to see my other eyeball is on that side of the room and my right brain is splattered like mushy watermelon on the walls.
I did make a choice, but I cheated. I still have a pretty awesome ace up my sleeve. Now I'm stuck. I can't move forward, and I certainly can't move backwards. If I persist in this infernal loop it shall spin me well into hell.
Yeah, I know, what the hell am I talking about?
This is it.
Am I leaving? And if I leave, am I ever coming back? (No idea)
If I stay, will I ever leave? (Most definitely)
I am afraid of comfort, of settling, of thinking hell, this is good enough.
I am afraid of conformity, of marriage, of children, of materialism.
I am afraid of peace, of religion, of ties that bind.
I am afraid of home mortgages, of car loans, of tuition fees.
I want danger, desire, passion, intensity, death, pain, lust, love, excitement, youth, life, sex, intellectual pursuits, drugs, poetry, speed and the illusion of solitude.
But my wants and fears can't help me fucking choose.
I am thinking of running away and changing my name, cutting ties with everything and everyone who has ever known me, and be something else somewhere else I’ve never been.
