I really hate this. Not this as in life, or this as in my day-to-day, this as in this moment, right now. Right when my eyes feel like blinking doesn't help, and when my ears want to stop hearing things, and when I just want to slip into some sort of cocoon-like middle stage, where I can get past all the B.S. of being a teenager, all the superficial crap, all the insecurity, all the stupid-arse drama, and romance, and complications. But even when I think that I know that I can't just sleep through it, that this is for the rest of my life. People will always be superficial and insecure and people will always thrive on drama. It's those thoughts that make me want to go live in mountains for the rest of my life. Get a motor home or a camper or something, and just go find a spot that's secluded, and live away from all the stupidity of life. Like my Dad did, after the divorce. I'll go move to montana, stay up in the mountains for the summer, as long as I can chance it, then for the winter just board with some cool hippies or something. Just lay low and avoid people who would just cause me pain or frustration or whatever. I could find a tiny little run-down cabin and fix it up. Devote my time to my arts. I'd sell my stuff in town to make some money, but I'd be self-efficient for the most part. I'd go climb up a mountain, I even know the trail, and I'd sing at the peak, I'd sing with all my heart, and people down below would hear me, and maybe stop their angry lives, their selfish lives, their sad lives, to listen. Maybe I'd come down from the mountain, and live in the town, find someone to spend the rest of my days with, settle down and live life happily. I even know the house I'd live in. I've been inside. It's perfect and beautiful. I'd grow old, and happy and I'd die, knowing that I got away from some of the shit people do, some of the crap we think is normal. I'd die with a smile on my face, but not before sharing my story with someone. Someone young like me in this moment, someone lost and frustrated. I'd tell them about my cabin and the mountaintop. Maybe one day after I'd be dead and gone, that person would climb up a mountain to find my cabin, they'd devote them self to whatever they love, they'd climb to a mountain peak, and they too would sing for all the people down below to hear and think, and maybe for one moment, stop and just listen.

I can only wish.