I painted my room this color, that's pretty neat. i can type better now, the nails were really keeping me from doing a lot. i feel so stretched out. i can't say there is something that i'm doing right. i don't feel confident in anything, i'm so insecure right now. i guess it's the new job and the fact that i still and probably won't ever trust him. that sucks. the new job is, the worst. for what i'm getting paid, damn. and i have a ba. fucking sucks. hahaha.

i always think i need someone next or close to me in order to be okay. this person, i don't know how to feel. i just don't trust him. even from the start i didn't trust them.

i feel like i don't have room to be myself. i can't be myself. i feel like everything is about him. it's really, i start to share something and as soon as i start i'm interrupted and he just takes over. when i prove a point, a damn solid good point, he just starts ranting on about the illuminati. he's never sober. hardly ever sober. i'm not going to lie, when he's sober he's inquieto, when his consciousness is altered he's more open to ideas and plans.

he feeds me, all the time. he gives me clothes, lets me use his clothes, his socks.

that's it?

there's this struggle, this struggle within me that i can't allay. what the fuck am i doing?

things have changed and i guess i just, i'm more awake than before. i want to change things. i can't do this forever, i'm going to do something soon, and i might not feel safe but it must be done. i have that feeling, it's similar to when i quit my last job. similar to when i've broken up with my exes. just like when i decided to stop playing soccer.

i want to go to school. real school. i want to pursue an ma in something i love.

i love the history of central and south america. the class i took three years ago had literature that needed one to look to the past to understand the awesomeness of the pieces. i want that. i want that over and over again. i want that again and again. to write. i hate writing. i like talking and connecting. i really enjoy listening. what good is it if i don't write? what can i prove? what am i trying to prove?

can't i just get paid to go to classes? i'll do the homework.

i would love to go to berkeley.

i feel so, i don't know how to explain it.

i feel like i've wasted a lot of time. i'm comfortable. i don't want to be comfortable. i want to learn. i want room for myself. i want the respect i deserve. i want dignity. i want to be recognized as being the person that i am.

is the relationship i'm in fulfilling those desires?

no.