Bury me here, in the silvery mist

I'm feeling much better now. And I feel like maybe I can explain myself. Honestly, I would like to turn myself off, get through school, start my life (because it feels like it's on hold while I'm here), and figure out what's important to me. I wonder how I still don't know.

I read my nonfiction in class today. It was about Mike. I feel bad because Mike's death makes me feel selfish. I'm more concerned with my own death than his. I'm glad it wasn't my brother or Omar or my mom or dad. That's awful really. And he was younger than me. He died at 21, and I am 21. I feel like I can't live my life like I'm young anymore because someone even younger is dead. He got as old as he would ever be. It's not an excuse really. I don't know what I want. I dont' want to be in school. I want to be Ishmael, but I feel like Ahab. I want to go out to sea, and say fuck you land. Fuck you and all your dwellers. Let me be out here, where my family floated through the generations. Let me be here and alive, where everything makes a deep internal sense and all the confusing trivial problems with life can disappear over the horizon. I wish I was a man. It would be so much easier to ride a boat into nowhere if I was a man.

I will content myself with reading Moby-Dick for now. But Jesus Christ, and satan, and Buddha, I am getting on a boat or in a truck or something anything, and I'm getting away from everything and everyone. Let me be a wanderer. Let me leave. Don't keep me here if you don't want me here.