Every time I go somewhere new, or anywhere alone, I have the urge to never go home. Whenever I am somewhere new I explore, I drive around, I take the long way, and then I try and find my way back on my own. There is so much to do and so much to see but I’ll never do it all. Time is all going by without me. Everything is happening and I can just watch and wait for my brain to wake up enough to match my desires. I have as many things to do as days in my life but I know it isn’t enough. There are feelings I want to feel and people who I want to meet, but something inside wants me to do it alone, but not alone like I don’t want my relationship or my friendships. Literally just physically alone. I only ever think about doing new things without anybody else. I don’t want anybody else to have any effect on how I experience things.
I have a fixation on The Grand Canyon. I want to take a drive to see it more than almost anything in the world. But my girlfriend doesn’t feel quite that way. She has a real fear of heights and cliffs and looking over edges of things so all those things combined don’t really make for a great Grand Canyon travelling companion.
But she likes to do things with me, she likes to go places with me. She likes to go on trips and experience the things that I want to do.
But for some reason I want to do these things alone and then come home changed and refreshed and tell her all about it.
I should probably stop putting so much pressure on random things to change me. I’m doing the same thing with The Grand Canyon as I did to moving to Vermont and maybe even moving back. I needed to move back, I needed to be home again. I expected it to change everything and of course it changed nothing. I always feel so fucked in my brain because I can’t think the things or talk about the things that will actually change me. I don’t contact my therapist when I should and instead I wait until I feel the most stable so I don’t have to talk about anything real. I love feelings. I love raw emotion and I love feeling my own emotion and my own feelings. I love crying, I love breakdowns. I love the clear exhaustion that I feel after a night of sobbing. But I hate talking about it. I hate explaining myself. If I had to put words to anything I go silent and anxious and uncomfortable. Those things have no place here, they only put burdens on the ones I love. I just have to keep looking for that next thing to change me.