Brick

What a realization. I don’t believe in any of it, anymore.

… … …

 

Here, in Atlanta, in a $1,400 a month house, I woke up hopeful. I woke up with a lot on my mind but a very bright and vibrant sense of purpose. It felt like something was going okay. It felt like this was an okay run, this life, and I was keeping the pace.

 

Here, in Atlanta, at 11:45pm I feel violent in my defeat. I feel a sense of hopelessness that I can only compare with an actual character of mine. And that makes sense. I spent much of today wishing I could disappear, evaporating slowly into the air, and turn into that character forever. I spent much of today wishing I was someone else completely, someone who could not exist without making hundreds and hundreds of ancestors, thousands of other people. I spent much of today and yesterday and all the days before it wishing I could exist in the world I made in my head.

 

It’s not going away, I guess. Every road I walk down leads to a wall. And this isn’t something that bothers me. Even my characters, even the one I wish I was, even they are surrounded by walls and closed doors. Even they squeeze their heads between their hands and seethe, whimper, whine. But they are not me. That’s the only difference.

 

I realized today that I will always want to be someone else. That will never change. I will never enjoy this life in a concrete way. And it sunk in a bit more than usual. I’m not exactly burdened by it.

 

I wonder what it means in the long run, though. I wonder when I’ll hit a brick wall that really stops me. That even my characters can’t help me escape.