imaginary diary

Two years ago

A quiet country tune drifts softly through our open windows. Sleepy eyed, he is driving. It is a quiet college town. We've been driving for what feels like hours. We ate peanut butter on slices of white bread. We've decided to travel south. No plans. Just people searching for a place to use their potential.

It is the first day since escaping.

Present day -- my birthday

We’ve been on the road for two years now. Two years pass and now I’m fourteen. We are still on the read. From mobile home, to moving cars, they drift endlessly, wherever the wind blows, whenever the mood strikes. Like birds catching air currents, not looking for an end but a means: The means to eat, sleep, go.

I'm afraid i'm losing myself, my fighting spirit, my ability to hate. In 1984, Winston allowed his spirit to be crushed he learned to love the very thing he hated. Don't let that be me. Please God, don't let that be me.

This diary is my salvation. Without it I'm afraid I will lose myself, I will lose my strength, my rebellious spirit.

Everyday it becomes harder and harder to be. I try to quell my longing for friends, for people to understand my feelings. But everyday it becomes harder. I feel the fire of anger so much it hurts my stomach like I just want to let it out kicking and screaming. I know it isn't a physical fight but an inner struggle to be free. Free to bs..free to be a part of life.  I'm watching it from the other side, like one watches a movie, alone but wanting to think it exist. I believe that is why I love movies. I know they are a fake escape but they are an escape nonetheless.

I'm a collector.

I collect nature magazines.

I cut out all the pictures of birds and fold them in my bag. When I'm not okay I just take them out and look at them. They empower me. I know it sounds silly but they do. I have a little mantra: "I'm a bird, always transpiring, never satisfied, never settling." I always have to repeat it to myself because I'm so afraid I will wake up one day and will be too tired to fight anymore.

The endless drives are driving me crazy. They bring no stability, only shaky ground.

The monsters come at night. Like death taking warm souls.

It is so easy to accept, to love, to give in. Once you give them your love they take your spirit and crush it.

Remember your anger, remember what you're fighting against.

Don't they understand u don't want food. Not physical food but food for the soul. The ability to not just exist but explore and create.

I would live on oatmeal and raisins for the rest of my days if it meant I could be a part of life. What is the point of food if none of its energy is being used for good?

Im saved by my battered but precious  purple CD player. When things become so hard, I don't believe I can endure it,  I just put on a song and it washes me with newfound hope, the hope that I can last one more minute, one more hour, one more day. I love my Broadway CD.

I'm so afraid I will forget these feelings of loneliness and captivity that I wish to document them.

Tangled hair

Deathly anxious and angry