What happens if I turn into a teenager? In the sort of existential meaning of the word.

I don’t know. I don’t want to be typical. I really don’t. I don’t want to look at myself and see everyone else. And I know that is really generic, but it’s true. Because so many people, and I say this because I see it so often, try to find themselves through the methods that every person who was lost before has used. I don’t want to allow myself to experience the same rotting existence. Because…I just see so much of it, and I don’t understand it. But I don’t want to understand it through experience.

I don’t WANT to need things. It’s not right to me. I want to stand on top of mountains and feel how high up I am and forget everything, and run and run until I’m flying because it’s all that there is that I can do. Just feel the wind and the energy and everything around me. And just allow myself to be.

But what if I stop doing that. That’s what I’m really really worried about. What if I lose that? What if I start to believe I need all those things that are so unnecessary? And it’s just…I have no words for it. It’s all in my head. Every last bit of my existence is in my head. I think and I see but I don’t believe because I don’t feel it there, touching me and pulling me towards its reality. And this void between all the parts of life that I’m expected to experience is where I’m stuck. Well…not really stuck. Because I’m happy to be there. I like it there. It’s nice, because it’s so centered amongst everything.

But it’s lonely. It really is. Because there’s no one there. All the other people are finding their own ways to relieve their pain and lust and want and I am dormant in my void. My void of everything, with nothing there. And I’m scared that I will be thrown out of my place. That I will be thrust into the world of desperateness and hopelessness. Of quitters and I-don’t-give-a-shit-ers. All these lost thoughts, and I don’t want to be a part of that. I would rather my own place.

But damn. I get lonely.