Another day of insanity another night of insonmia

I really like school and I usually like my job (when I have gotten enough sleep to handle it) but I am just tired of life. I am tired of trying and talking to people. I am tired of being “social.” I am tired of getting up in the morning and going to bed at night. I feel trapped and disillusioned by life.

I feel like a mopy 15 year old.

I am too old to feel like that.

I think I am miserable and I cannot admit it. I cannot admit it to anyone around me. I cannot admit it to myself.

…but maybe ignorance is bliss… maybe ignorance leads to insanity…

Money issues are supposed to work themselves out but it is such a slow process.

I still don’t feel like a HEALTHY human being. Someone is wrong but I am starting to wonder if I am just a hypochondriac.

People that I have been close friends with for years are disappearing because the found someone to fulfill their needs so they need no one else… other people cant see past the daily how-are-you-im-fine rutine. And what is left. Not much.

I keep thinking that if I could just get to the ocean, or the mountains, or an old friend I would feel better. But I think that is just an illusion too.

Life has to get better than this. If it doesn’t what is the point? What is the point of any kind of relationship if in the end they fail and dissipate? What is the point of getting up in the morning if the day turns out to be worse than staying asleep? What is the point of conversations if nothing is really being said… or heard?

What is the point…. What is the point…. That is what I cannot figure out…

Maybe there is no point. Maybe we just made it all up so that we can feel better about ourselves. Then we can feel more accomplished and acceptable. Maybe the point is just to be. To be and to be known. To be and to experience… not to gain but to experience…. Hummmm maybe I’ll never know if there is a point. Maybe I just trying to find it because someone told me to.

…also… I think I am supposed t get rid of some (or most) of my books. It pains me to say that but they are so a huge physical hindrance. When I move I move about 18 boxes of books. And I think I keep most of them so that I just look at them on the shelf and say, “oh, what pretty books I have.” I hardly ever read any of them twice or three times. So, I think all the books might be going soon. I am curious what is next after that. First it was the guitars, then using my car as little as possible, now that books…. I don’t have much left after that. The though of getting rid of them freaks me out.

It is funny how we, or at least I, find security in material possessions. I feel safer and better about my life because I have a 6 foot shelf full of books. What an odd thing. We’ll well see how if feels if they are gone.