Yapping, as they say. Don't care. Where else would I?
Being a social pariah again. Only this time, I'm not in the deep South. Because extreme views take many forms.
So many bridges burned, that I'm used to the fumes, too emotionally exhausted, and nihilistic to even consider if they're toxic to breath in.
Portland broke me. I met a hero, something you should never do. I tasted my 15 minutes of social relevancy. I could have ignored the ulterior motives, still felt like I had a friend, and a social circle, support network, but I pulled the plug on it. It hurts more to have lost someone I thought was a friend, the social isolation that resulted from it, is another story, not to mention how that person, like so many in Portland, became an extremist himself.
I'm leaving back to the place I never thought I'd ever miss again. I thought this was "home." Being uprooted doesn't hurt as much when you're younger. But I'm exhausted from instability.
I could just live here, grow a vegetable garden, take hallucinogens and hangout with hippies with bad hygiene, or attend the clubs that play the same "safe" Synthpop, with the docile crowd that act allergic to fun.
Instead, I'm moving back to the place where everything is expensive, bike lanes are a myth, walkability is an urban legend, and rat race is an understatement.
Not having a place to dress up kills me inside. I feel like a bird with her wings clipped.
I'm tired of going to clubs and most of the people there don't A) Make an effort B) (the worst reason) Act scared to have fun/glare at you if you're having too much fun.
I feel like I've gained weight because of all the stagnation. I mean, when you have no inspiration to look good in PVC or corsets, those mirror neurons fire. Not to mention the rain, and never-ending depression from the dullness of this place.
It angers me, that the people here think they have me figured out. They think that they've seen me at my peak. This is a facade. I'm bored, depressed, starving for inspiration. I don't want to be the lazy slob in jeans & hoodies anymore.
I don't belong here. I'm too much of a city person, too much of an adventurous/mischievous person. I don't need drugs to have fun, I don't need the cope of stinky pot, hallucinogens. It's been sad. I've started working on cool, Cyberpunk props for Industrial clubs, and the first thought nagging in the back of my mind is "What's the damn point? Where will I use it?"
The fact is, staying here will age me even more.
I'll fall into the stereotype of "settling down and living a quiet life when you're not young anymore."
That is a mantra for Christian/conservative losers who grow up to be fat, mundane, trash tv/sports watching, drones. That is not the life I want. Nor do I want to live like a granola munching, pot smoking, hippie.
I'm so sick of stupid motherfuckers lecturing and giving the "don'tchu think you'll be depressed wherever you go?" speech, when then don't get the concept of raison d'etre to begin with.