asphixia

I can't breathe anymore.

I wonder if it's yet another passing phase or I'm just being dramatic.

Maybe it's a little bit of both. It really doesn't matter: whatever the cause, I feel stuck. With what? With life.

It's as if all my dreams and hopes have gone throught the toilet to a happier place. Or if I had hit my head and suddenly forgotten the things that used to make me feel somewhat happy or somewhat inspired. I feel tied down to my relationships: they demand the hell from me, but I can't count on them to listen to me, to tell me what's going wrong with me. I'm desperate.

And frightened. Very. I don't seem able to find the cause of my asphixia, not being able to fix it and move on. Yesterday I even thought for a few seconds of killing myself (how fucking emo has this blog turned out?!). No. This is not a desperate call for help. I wouldn't do it, and I'm not planning my near suicide. I'm talking about the feeling of wanting away that has invaded my system and that makes me feel as if death were just another place to run to, like Namibia, to start over and feel my life again.

Most of the times, I dream of helping in the Salvation Army, or UNICEF or some other humanitarian cause in which I would get lost in others and just forget how tied down I feel and maybe, just maybe, by seeing despair reflected in others' eyes, I would be able to find true meaning for my own existence, the end.

But for the time being, I can't run to Africa to find myself. I'm stuck for another year in my beloved (and now, lacking of any wonders) Mexico City. I have to finish college. And afterwards, start paying for college. And then, there's family and friends and the other loved ones. And I will have to get me a job, and buy me a car, and begin saving for when I get married and have kids, and from then on, it's just more work and life passing in front of me at the speed of sound. I long for life to pass in front of me at the speed of sound: being so fucking busy I don't have time to complain or to wonder what the meaning of life is or to feel desperate. I will be comfortably numb, just like generations before me did.

And one day I'll open my eyes just to find reality face to face: I will have wasted my life, I will not have gone to the places one day I dared to dream I'd go. And I will not have made a difference in the world, like one day I thought I would. And it will all be too late, because I will be very old or sick or something.

Maybe this perspective is what has me feeling all tied down. I want to do a lot of things, but I don't have any idea how to make them come true. Somebody told me yesterday to think of all the things I have, as if my feeling bad was on purpose; an action being performed with the sole intention of ruining other's lives (yet, most of the people around me have proven to be selfish enough to believe this). It just pissed me off. I know all the great blessings I have, and I thank life for them. The thing is, counting my blessings doesn't make it enough. I have measured them, I have weighed my gifts; I have even placed them in boxes so that they don't get lost. The problem is I don't know what's next. Once counted, measured and preserved, what am I supposed to do with them?

What am I supposed to do once I finish school? I don't know what I want to do with my career: should I be a journalist, a publicist, a radio producer? Worse yet, will I be (able to be) a journalist, a publicist or a radio producer????

Will I get married (I intend to, but then again, nothing is certain)??? Will I have kids the way I want to (with the economic means to do so, with the wisdom to parent them well, and with the emotional disposition to do so???)???

Will I ever feel fine???

I'm absolutely puzzled. I just wish I weren't bored with life and would be able to face what's to come with hope and exitement and not with terror and the feeling of running away that always comes with it.