Wandering & Wondering (Don't be frightened - this is cathartic for me.)

it's been awhile since i've written, but i can explain. 

in the past, i've been too dark and twisty. my writings can take on a life of their own and begin to choke me. so, if i'm writing dark and twisty, i find myself as morose and convoluted as the subjects i expound upon. 

instead, i've been focusing on the brighter side of life.the parts that reverberate and zing. they zip zap through your eyes right into your heart, spreading a vibration that's good. 
that's warm. 
that's pleasing. 

good. 

warm. 

pleasing. 

all nice things to aspire to. 

i hope that some of the things i write bring warmth or pleasure to this world. this entry, however, will do no such thing. there is no amount of sugar that could coat the darkness i feel tonight. 

i am sick, to the core, for my home. i do not want to be here...and if i thought for a moment that it would bring me closer to feeling at ease, i'd swim out from the pier, until i finally found sylvia, and we lived at the bottom of the ocean together. telling stories, and laughing about that oven incident. 

she'd say, "this was how i was meant to be, all along. underwater: choked, yet weightless. we no longer have that bothersome burden of breathing" 

and, i'd agree, nodding, and saying, "yes...yes..." because i agree with nearly everything syvia plath has to say. she is, after all, a celebrated writer. 

and, i...i am a never was. and, from my never was stance, i can say to sylvia, in the most candid of conversations:"honestly, sylvia...was it that bad?" and, she'd reply simply, with a coy smile...and no words. 

can someone please tell me what it is that i'm meant to do? slyvia, will you? 

i'm ready to get started, and the truth of it is...i'm wandering and wondering. 

wandering and wondering. 

wandering... 

"not all that wander, are lost". my eyes found those words emblazened on the backlit billboard beacon, in its prepackaged, and cost efficient "Life is Good" store located in my terminal at the airport. from its flourescent light pedastal, perched above us, it preaches to the lost masses, en masse, waiting for their glorified greyhound buses to go airborne. 

can someone please take me airborne, and take me home.i don't want a round trip ticket.i want a one way. 

i want....i want. 

ridiculous, selfish, pathetic cries to a world that is endlessly giving to each of us. 

i want. 

that's just it. i don't want for anything. all of my needs are met. all of my hierarchies are clearly laid out, and i fall somewhere on maslow's pyramid between desolate despair and zen-like floatation. that grey area, in between bad and good. kinda like the grey area between my ears...between bad and good. 
between mad and sensible. 
somewhere, juxtaposed with triumph, located between apathy, and perpetual busy-ness. 

i feel a lot like a little girl on that big roller coaster on the pier. i've watched and waited patiently in line, as the carriages would glide across my field of vision, invigorating and exhilirating its passengers. as the line shortened, and my own seat became available, my pulse quickened, and the knots in my stomach began to grow. 

as the bar swung down, overhead, and clamped into place tightly across my lap, i began to feel as if it all were wrong. this was not the ride for me...and that realization came as the ride lurched forward into motion. so, as the once graceful carriages, now surge, rather than glide....i clinch my jaw tighter, and white knuckle that bar.

can't let them see me sweat.

at least, not until i vomit...or we finally break free from these tracks. 

see, sylvia? you're always right.