Straightforward and Disjointed

OK, fuck that last post. Here's the deal: I'm not happy. And that's the problem.

Recently, I've been driving around. Just driving. Alone. And thinking. And that's a metaphor for my life right now. I'm aimlessly driving around without a definite destination. I drive around for hours, not getting anywhere, and eventually, I give up on finding whatever it is I'm looking for, and I head back home disappointed.

I'm tired of being unhappy. I'm tired of pretending I'm not. I'm tired of not telling anyone what I'm thinking. And I'm tired of writing a goddamn blog post whenever I have something significant to say. But here I am.

My heart pounds, my legs are shaking, and my teeth both tingle and feel numb at the same time. It's like being on cocaine, without the euphoria. In fact, if there is an exact opposite of 'euphoria,' that's what it feels like. I don't cry from eyes, but from somewhere deep in my skull and far down in my chest. The windshield wipers can't clear away a torrential rain of tears. My foot shakes on the gas pedal.

I shouldn't be sitting in silence with my friends and then crying alone. I'm so distant, sometimes even from myself. I even tricked myself into believing that I was fine.

With a lump in my throat I explained something like the truth to a man at the University Counseling Services today. He nodded at all the right places and asked me all the cliche questions a councilor should. Then he told me, in not so many words, that the only thing that was keeping me from being happy was me. I came to realize that I lack focus: Instead of being unhappy in general, I should find those things that specifically make me unhappy, and kick those things' asses.

Well, I found one. I feel stupid, because this one's pretty hard to miss. It's been right in front of me, that huge fucking wall that I've been erecting, brick by brick, since (I'm guessing) 7th grade, but it may have been before that, and I just don't remember. It's pretty big now, and I don't even know how thick. So, it's not like I didn't know it was there, I just didn't see it as a problem. It protected me. From everyone else. The problem was, it couldn't protect me from me.

The USC guy also told me something else important. I don't remember how he put it, but here's my take on it: Don't try to fix everything all at once. There is no magical Happy button that makes everything all better. Nothing -- no place, no drug, no friend, no girl -- will make me completely happy. I'm responsible for that part. They might help, but I have to be happy with myself to be completely happy.

'Happy' is such a stupid word now.

I continued to drive. No more crying. I was done with that shit. I pressed down on the gas and flew down the highway, faster and faster still. I crashed into that wall around me. I wrecked my car and only made a crack in it. But I will get out. Eventually.