I'm baa-ack.

Its been 2 days and already I can feel myself reversing. I don't know if its the constant rain or playing Beck's Golden Age on a loop or being back here, but it's dragging me down fast, like quicksand. Its getting harder to breathe, I feel like I can't see past the moment.

I know where I want to be. And I realize there's a list a mile long I need to checkoff before I can even begin to think about these things happening. I sometimes dream so much that it becomes real and when my idealisms are shattered I lose all hope once again.

I hate thinking in terms of right and wrong, of black and white. There's always so much emphasis on doing what's right and what's right is always some intangible, inconceivable notion thats out of reach and nearly impossible to obtain. I'm all about the id. I want what I want and crave what I desire. And if my fancy is no longer entertained, I move along. I can't see running in circles for years before I begin to see the fruits of my labor. That may be cause for belief of my insensibility, but it's quite the opposite. To me, that is sensible. It's how I make sense.

I'm almost 20. A large span of that has been wasted waiting. I'm impatient. I'm ready.

All the unspoken rules that I supposedly break are what make me a social phenomenon.

In terms of measuring my self worth, I find it hard to estimate my entireity while sitting naked in a bright white room. I try to color my mood with orange and lime paints, different shoes for different outfits...it's like I'm a Christmas tree with no decorations. Does it mean the same?

My composure is just the opposite. I am not composed. I'm beginning to fall apart at the touch of my own hand, baring my heart and begging for it to be broken.

I sit here completely alone, interrupting my own thoughts with random song lyrics, catatonic states and self loathing.

It's so good to be home.