the end of the decade

Miranda July is wrong. Not wrong in the sense that she may be right to others. And not in a way that I am a self pitied lost young girl who knows nothing of what I want and wouldn't know how to get it if I did know. Well. actually. Miranda July is probably right. I'm wrong. Well I'm not wrong. I just don't know.
I could go to school. But where. I think I know what I want to go for. Learn about people. Learn to sustain. Learn what my purpose is. How. Could I do it alone. Would someone help. What if I want to go to school in Portland. How do I manage that. Moving. Getting acquainted. (well. That I can do.) What if I go to school here? I don't want to go to school here. I don't like the school here. I think. It's just not the school I want. How do I know what school I want. I have never been.
I was smarter that way. I'm not in debt. (suckas!)

Maybe it's not school. Maybe it's just to stop smoking. The only reason I want to stop smoking is so I can do that study. To make money. For what? I mean. To live yes. But how do you call what I am doing, living?

Living greener. Now that's something with purpose. But I feel like I should stop drinking and smoking. Stop dressing in REALLY cute outfits and stay home and start a garden. I don't want to stop my well dressed social life. I don't know how to start a garden. I want to though. But to what sacrifice?

I need purpose. I do know that. I need to start living something of a fulfilling life. I don't want to find it through love. Inevitable end. Shakey pretense. I would like romance though. (Please if your reading this. Don't think I'm not disgarding the chance at a romantic affair.) I just don't think that what is giving me bad dreams can be solved through others overrated false conception of their feelings that they are projecting on to me. I know intentions are usually fair. I just don't want to put myself to the curb for something that will bring out the worst in us.

With that. Finding a way to live with some regard to a bigger picture of my life. Not even the rest of the world. But simply recognizing that I will probably still be alive in ten years. where. If I had a choice to shape my little three feet of personal space. Where would I put myself that I could only blame me for. Praise me for.


Via: the consumer