Looking For A New Love Baby

Sometimes I just want to ride this train into forever. It didn't even occur to me that I hadn't been on the MTA in about 3 weeks. Almost like I've just been a zombie in the house. I need some sort of outlet from this cyclic turmoil of wanting out of a situation, but not wanting to go into another more uncomfortable situation. It seems that this society has been designed in such a way that instead of people working hard to eventually have a calm piece of mind and the free will to live outside of the box, we have been afforded one opportunity of hard work to move to the next level of working even harder and settle into a box that is simply a lil bit more comfortable than the one that preceded it. I don't like this sensation. I'm a wild colt being made to trot in place.

Remember George Orwell's 1984 where he described the difficulty in sitting in a pre-constructed bubble of consciousness because that was what was deemed "permissible" by the totalitarian power. My room looks like something out of a Nanny's worse nightmare. It's littered with newspaper clippings from classified ads, half-read books, napkins with my incomplete musings, and a wide realm of clothes strewn about in the wreckage, because much like the walls of my mind there is much clutter that I must sort through to discover the proper mask to put on to arrive at the next level. I sift through the junk every day, but I have no real desire to move it because it like so many other things is only a physical representation of psychological struggles I am trying desperately to escape.

I know that "eventually" everything will work itself out, but some days I feel panicked when my aunt asks me questions about my plans for the summer and I have a mild heart attack. Mostly because she rattles off pronouns like "us" and "we" and I look to Heaven and pray silently that the Lord doesn't allow me to sit here all the way till summer. I have no desire to stay in this box, this tiny islet of steel that keeps me a slave to someone else's altruistic deed of allowing me to squat their apartment. I am ready. I cannot remain in the state that I am in. I cannot bare more moments of an adult life that still feels like being 16 with a fresh driver's license and waiting to borrow Mom and Pop's car. I am ready to throw this puppy into overdrive and let the top down. *sigh* For now I'll start by getting my draws out the floor.