Last night, yesterday, I kind of flipped my shit. I have two papers due this week, each worth a quarter of my final grade along with a take home spanish test. I've had trouble writing academic papers all month long even though I've been trying. I sent one to my friend for him to help me with it, he just wanted to read it to me so I could hear how bad it was. I knew how bad it was and didn't need or want to hear it. He didn't understand, now he thinks I was just mean to him for no reason and just being mopey/whiney. I wasn't mean so much as I used strong language. He told me I bring it all upon myself for not eating right and getting exercise. Maybe he's right but how the fuck am I supposed to eat right and get exercise when I'm not even happy that I'm alive? What the fuck sense does that make? Sometimes I'm pretty convinced that I'm not the "mad" one but that everyone else is. 

Anyways, my skin was crawling and I just needed to go, get out, run and find solace somewhere because it wasn't here. So I grabbed my poodle and left. I drove around, got a little lost, screaming "FUCK THIS FUCKING ROAD, I FUCKING HATE STOP SIGNS"  while trying to figure out how to get back to somewhere I recognized. I came upon a main road eventually and headed south towards the coast. Usually open bodies of water calm me down. But ever since I read The Awakening by Kate Chopin I can't get Edna Pontillier out of my mind. She realized that she didn't fit into her society and would not recieve the recognition, respect, and independence that she needed for her well being so she went to the Gulf of Mexico and swam as far as she could. She wasn't a good swimmer so she died. It was my intention to do the same but when I found the water it was at the local college and there was some bullshit going on at the place next door. They had lights and horrible techno/electronic music. It was the exact opposite of what I wanted, waves gently crashing upon the beach and sealgulls squaking. The tide was low, and I was on the bay not the Gulf. I couldn't stand the thought of my little dog sitting on the shoreline waiting for me and being broken hearted. 

So I called mom. I didn't mention to her that my phone was almost dead because  I was too busy telling her how I've had enough and I can't wether the shit storm of my life any longer. Right as I was telling her that I didn't understand why everyone was so convinced that I will be special and have a better future than anyone else the phone died. I left to look for an outlet to plug in but in the fog of madness I thought that I should just go home. So I did, and almost got into a car wreck on the way. That's alright though, it happens just about every day here with all the tourists, elderly, and uncaring hoodlums doing dumb shit on the road. I got home and called mom. she didn't answer, called back on her cell. She was on the phone with campus police who were looking for me, she had them searching the water and shit. Poor mom, I feel really bad about it. The fuzz showed up at my doorstep later and talked to me about life and how I need to forget all this misanthropic bullshit and do whatever makes me happy. I contested every glimmer of hope they offered as anyone who is set on not wanting to endure the hardships of life would.  I'm just looking for a way out of the shit hurricane (it's a fucking hurricane now), an escape from 'this mistake we call a modern life' (defiance, ohio lyrics). What to do? Where to go? 

Every part of me just wants to get on a sailboat (like a motherfuckin pirate, Anarchy on the Gulf) and head to Cuba, Haiti, Yucatan, Barabados, and how ever far I can fuckign get from bureaucracy and the glowing distractions of media and social networking. Just say "fuck everything I do what I want" and do it. Is it ok to skirt societal "duties"? Well, I don't even pay taxes but hey, that's because I'm an indentured servant for the University to Workforce machine.

It's all just fucked up and stupid.