people sometimes ask me where I want to be, if I were to settle down for a while. I have no answer. I want to be away from everything I know, everyone I know. I want to have no history, no future, no dreams. I want to live in today, in the now, and I want that to be the only thing that matters. People accuse me of running away. I say, I'm running to. Searching something, even if I'm not entirely sure what it is. I feel like I've started to lose my words. I don't want to talk to many people because I don't want to be misunderstood by one more person... 

Ugh

I hate that feeling of not feeling good enough. Sitting there thinking what you could do differently, who you could be to be more wanted company. I feel extremely alone.

I'm losing my mind.

Bravery

Many people have called me brave. But I never feel brave. I am comfortable roaming from place to place doing what I've been doing. I know I have something and someone to rely on on the other side of  that plane or train ride. I have someone picking me up, a place to stay, a job to take.

What I'm about to do is in the face of all that. I'm scared. I'm alone. And that's what bravery is about. Facing your fears.

All I know is that I'm tired of traveling on the backs of modeling and men who want to photograph me naked. I want something more. Not that I hate modeling, I just don't want to do it for a living anymore. I want to find something else...

Wel, I've found something else. I have found sailing.

First things first: Find my way to the ocean...

Musings on Musing

I guess I understand why a number of my friends have spoken up against the desire to be a muse. What a thing full of pressure, Musing. It is love, it is desire, it is pain and suffering. Ultimately a muse is inspiring because she is ever elusive, taunting you further than you were before- a mirage, a handful of water, a side glanced ghost. I, who have always aspired to being a muse, may have found myself among those who step away from such a title. Do not chase me, do not want me... For I am unavailable, and I am cruel. I will leave. I will always leave.

Sailing

I'm in Chicago. There is a festival nearby here in Lincoln Park, I hear music and the dull din of a crowd. People drinking, dancing. Having fun. A part of me wishes to be a part of it, but then I realize that I never have fun at those things. I don't care about music enough to go to loud festivals and I don't like people enough to carry on a conversation with strangers. I realize that drinking is dulling me, is making me less capable. 

I say this even as I'm about to dip into my bottle of whiskey.  

At what point is enough enough? At what point do I wake up and say, it's time. Time to get my shit together and not in any other way but my own. I don't want to be the wild, rebellious, loud, outspoken girl anymore. I feel like that's not really me. Does that mean I've changed or does that mean I've been trying to be someone I'm not? Or is this what growing up feels like?

I do know that sailing is the answer to it all, to all of my dreams. I want to sail around the world. I am not sure how I'll make that happen, but I know it's something that I want. I want it bad. My own boat, eventually. I don't even know how to sail and I want my own boat, like now. 

I guess for now I will press on, looking for a boat to work on for the next month and a half. 

I wish my plans to join the Hawaiian Chieftain hadn't fallen through. Shit, or the following replacement plan, either. I feel like I'm sitting here with the rug yanked out from under me and now I'm scrambling. Quite unpleasant. Especially being nearly dead broke. 

Sigh.