I feel like it is time to address this, as if I haven’t already attempted to this past 5–6 years. The passage of time has become warped that I find myself asking if I experienced things just last year, or was it the year before? Time has become a haze and I lose myself wading through purposeless, yet forced to march on.
I should have picked what I think I know what I want to do months ago. I should have charted the course of action years ago. I should have used my time wisely for what I know I think I want to do in all those little big moments of empty that can be filled, that I fill with more empty instead.
I’m apathetic.
I don’t know what I want to do. It all seems unappealing and soulless, yet what I do want to do I think, the fun part seems like a selfish naive act of childish rebellion.
No foresight.
Why am I being told my parents will support my decisions? I wasn’t told to make any before, how do I make them? I’ve stumbled half-heartedly into a new country separate from familiar commonality and I’m left with an unfamiliar comfort. That nagging irrate rash that bleats harshly, apathy. I am so self-overwhelmed I push things back and manifest troubles where there needn’t be any.
Tell me.
What do I do? Please, force it upon me. So I can act accordingly. A factor, a contextual factor, a shepherd factor that informs if I lament and rebel or conform in compromise, or even throw my being into with heart and goodwill. But I don’t work without telling. I can’t minus, plus, or multiply by 2 if the 1 isn’t there. ___ x 2 doesn’t work. I need to know if it’s a zero, a 5, or sept. I can’t be working out of my nether. I can’t be working with nothing.
