#24: Things I Want

I want to be able to walk into a room filled with people and not feel like I’m going to pass out. I want to be free of the constant dizzyness, I want my head to stop spinning, I want my chest to stop getting hotter and hotter, I want to not have to think to myself “Breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe.” I don’t want to have to pray every moment of my life for the safety of those I fear losing, I don’t want to have to constantly pray that I’ll survive going out in public.

I want the left side of my body to stop hurting. I want to be free of stress. I want my mother to get out of my life forever. I want a job, and at that job I want to feel normal. I don’t care if it isn’t fun, or if it’s boring. I just want to be able to work at a job without feeling like I’m going to pass out every time someone speaks to me. I don’t want to be constantly checking the clock, not because I’m ready to go home, but because I’m so scared that standing inside the place I work makes me start to have a panic attack.

I want to be able to drive. I want to drive without the pain in my arms, I want to drive without my vision going blurry because I’m afraid of being killed, and my boyfriend too if he’s in the car with me. I want to have a car with a working CD player and preferably MP3 player/iPod port.

I want to lose weight. I don’t want to crawl naked into bed with my boyfriend and feel like a fat, doughy, slobby, wreck. I want my teeth to be straight, and white. I want the acne on my face and my back and my chest to go away, I want my face to be clear not only of bumps or acne, but of redness and irritation. I want my hair to be the correct length, I want to know how to style my own hair.

I want to have some sense of fashion, even if it’s my own wacky sense, I want to be able to walk into a store with clothes and see something that I want and put an outfit together.

I want to have piano lessons. I want a piano on which all of the keys work. I want a piano that sounds beautiful when played, a sound that fills the room and bounces off of the floor and the walls. I want to be able to sing, I want voice lessons, I want my voice to communicate emotion. I want to make music that is honest, that is raw, that is sore and red and real.

I want to try learning other instruments: the cello, the mbira, the waterphone, the saxophone, the viola, the guitar, both acoustic and electric, clavica, harpsichord, double bass.

I want my boyfriend to act like he loves me.

I want to live in my own house, away from this mess. I want to forget my family exists, I want them to leave me alone, I want to start my life over without them.

I want to be able to express the opinions that bubble up inside me every moment of the day. I want to have a medium by which to express all of the anger, the pain, the unsureness, the fear, the disgust, the loathing, the hatred, the strength, the emotion.

I want to feel original for once. I want to feel like I’ve been important. I want people to love me, to care about what I say, to be interested in me the way I’ve been interested in Amy Lee and Tori Amos and Paramore. I want to cry more, and cry real tears. I want to be true, and honest, and unafraid, and I want to live life the way I want to live it.

I want to believe that there is a God, or a Universe, or someone or something that cares about me, and that watches over me and wants me to be happy.

I want to be able to stop jacking off so much so that when I come, I’ll be able to shoot a huge load, and maybe finally be sexually attractive or hot.

I don’t want my ass to look like cottage cheese anymore, or have stretch marks across my body.

I don’t want to constantly utter things under my breath because I have obsessive compulsive disorder and I can’t help it.

I want to see the world with ease, for once. Be analytical as usual, but not feel uneasy. I want to walk through the mall without once thinking about passing out, I want being in public to be like it was when I was a kid, and I wasn’t worried about dropping unconcious into the middle of a crowd of people.

I want to be an adult. I want to be a good adult. I want to express my creativity in every possible way that I can, and acheieve every goal I’ve ever wanted to acheive.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s