We have no history.

O you American West,
Bastard child of an orphan nation,
inherit your nothingness
and look out upon the rest of the world
with a numb and empty soul.

Of all the peoples in this world,
with their eras high and low,
histories illustrious and long,
only you have nothing to look back on.
Even your teenaged mother had nothing--
there wasn't even a father or a seed.

Everyone journeys West
chasing that elusive tomorrow sun.
What did they find at the edge of this New World?
Why, the End of the World, of course.

So now there's nothing new ahead
and there's nothing old behind.
Not for us at least
we can't even remember the countries
that our own parents descended from.
Southern Californian is my ethnicity.

Most people don't even think about it,
let alone realize it.
Whatever, right?
We have a new religion at the moment.

I guess this is our inheritance:
loneliness summed up in some stupid, insufferable poetry.
Yeah, well, that's the only thing we can truly relate to.

I've lost touch with my humanity. It's like I went past childhood innocence, jaded adolescence, adult depression, quarterlife crisis, and am now in some sort of meta-funk. As in, I see and recognize my own dilemma, and am bored with it, flipping channels to see what else is on. I've even gone as far as telling my boyfriend about my curse and that quite frankly I wouldn't be surprised if it didn't work out. Who tells people that? Jesus.

So here I am, it's a Tuesday night, I've eaten an apple for dinner, and it's worth mentioning that I can no longer sit in my computer chair unless my knees are drawn up in a fetal position. I don't know what to do. I've been getting occasional call backs to memories of when I was one of those manic pixie dream girls growing up, but now I'm either just too tired or overanalysing it to do anything. The fact is, I don't want to meet anyone new. I feel like I don't even think anymore. This is the most I've thought about it up until this point.

I've been obsessed with records lately. I made a list of all of the books that I've ever read, something over 100 is the number. I made a blog to record childhood memories that I can still recall, as well as a blog to record my insane fucking dreams. Which have been freaking me out for the past few months.

I need a breath of fresh air. I wonder what I should do. Today was actually a pretty momentous day. I got some new music, that always helps, though I don't get a chance to listen nearly as much as I used to in college. I bought a DSLR today, so that should (keyword: should) get my ass into gear as far as projects are concerned. We'll see. Maybe I'll start writing again. Hell, I can't tell my own damned life from fiction half the time.

I read a quote the other day, that a man who had achieved a great deal in spite of great difficulty said: that he always knew the right direction to go to when he found that he was afraid. He said fear lead him to all of his experiences. I guess I'll go freak myself the fuck out now...