Change is imminent, either way. I'm afraid that I'll never recover from this, that I'm shattered for good now, that nothing is going to come of this but suffering and misery and I will die with nothing, with no lessons, no love, and no hope.
I don't understand anything anymore. What is the pay off? That here I am, being beaten into the ground so that some day I can experience an even higher joy? Sounds to me like rose-tinted idealization of what is, in fact, a fucked up, difficult, almost impossible situation. I'm barely a teenager. How am I supposed to own a house? And how am I supposed to sell the house where dad lived, where we all grew up together, where I felt Nirvana and where I wrote my first book, where all of my dreams have stemmed from... I don't know.
I don't know anything, anymore. This world made sense... I thought it would be gentle with me. But now I realize that maybe, without this, I would have never grown up. Maybe that's the whole point. Maybe I really would never have gone out there to become independent, and never would have stopped clinging to my dad to protect me and defend me... but I always forget, I'm only 20.
This is supposed to be scary. It's supposed to be frightening and panic-filled and overwhelming. It's supposed to seem impossible... because I need to be made to be strong enough to face the impossible, and not be afraid of it -- to face it, stare it down, and live it. I am living the impossible. I will succeed... I cannot let myself fail.
It would just be nice to have this heat wave finally break.
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