Need to Feel Alive...

Everything feels so obsolete right now. Like it doesn't matter. Religion. Science. Magic. Stories. None of it, feels worth anything. Right now, the only thing that feels like it has any substance is experience. And its the one thing that I don't have and don't know how to get because I'm too scared. I feel so boring, as if I'm not real. I've been studying all these deep topics but I'm not grounded in anything, no experience to draw from for my story its all fiction, there is no resevoir of experience, of truth of fact of substance, to flesh out my story. Its all fake, and fake is worthless. I mean I could go all fantastical and write about dragons adn faeries, research the mythology and such, but it would just be an escape for the mind.

Its like in college, one of the best nights of my life, I hung out with two middle eastern guys, we played games and then we played frisbee in the rain outside the dorm. I felt so alive in that moment, I had stepped out of my little hole, came out of my dorm and socialized with people, I engaged in life, and I miss that. I miss people my own age to talk to, that aren't associated with this image of how I'm supposed to be, this christian facade that doesn't fit me any more, that makes me feel dead inside, like I'm without a soul because I'm so wrong for believing in more than one holy book. For seeing the divine in humanity instead of some outside force that we've created for ourselves to cope and understand the world.

I just came back from writing club, that's probably what's got me depressed. People are writing these stories about their lives, how they've backpacked from Austria to South Africa and been on a barge that was gross and disgusting but was as large as a village, or how they went to teach English to some remote town in Mexico, or how they have this Jerry Springer-esque family involved with drugs and setting fires, and being married or divorced with actual people they've met in the flesh, no distance, true intimacy, face to face, eye contact, skin contact, hugs and punches, the good and the bad. And I sat there and listened to their stories and listened to the detail and how vivid it chronicled their lives and I felt soo, left out. What have I done?

I've dropped out of college because I couldn't pay for it where my grades dropped because I got side tracked with the internet, the two friends I had sorta abandoned me for their relationships with boys, and there I was without anyone to love me. So I retreated into the online world or roleplaying and started making friends with my online friends, creating elaborate characters I could live through and fall in love and have sex, and go on adventures. And it was through this that I found out about the otherkin community, found my current girlfriend of two years, and found my writer's voice. Then I have this psychotic break and have to find it again. My muse seems so much quieter than it used to be. I am thinking a sigil might change that. I have yet to make it though.

But I have never fell in love with an actual person in my local in real life, in the flesh, I have never had sex in real life, I have never french kissed anyone in real life. I have been on one date, two if you count the movie date I did with my gf, but still. Everything is online with me, I'm still retreated into that world, and not engaged in life. And being here with my dad in a state I don't particularly like isn't helping much. I have to hide who I am with my dad cause he'll never accept a bisexual polyamorous chaos mage as his daughter, he wants a straight monogamous messianic as a daughter and I've sort of grown out of that. And I'm not going back. I'm pretending right now and that's hard enough. I have my gf and my mentor, Zee, but they are still so far away, I wonder if I'll ever meet them in real life, hug them, laugh with them, eat a meal with them. Anything to make them feel more real and less of a figment of my imagination.

But yeah, I don't mean to go all autobiographical but I'm just depressed that I feel I haven't done anything worth writing about. A writer friend on facebook said that good writing is based in pain. I think I'm afraid to dig into the pain that I have that I've blocked the memories out, shrunk them down to minimalist details that are easier to bare,. Not that I've been abused or anything, more manipulated in a way, and emotionally pushed around. I don't want to paint myself as a victim anyway, if Zee were reading this, she'd tell me to stop complaining and just do something about it, instead of waiting around waiting for somehthing to happen to you, go out and make it happen yourself. Easy words, hard to do. Especially if your mind keeps coming up with excuses ...

Okay, enough rambling from me.

Star out.