Another Day. Charolastra Manifesto.

I have fallen into a sea of despair. Last night I dreamed that I jumped into the sea and drowned again. It's becoming a reoccuring dream. I almost started crying in the grocery store last night. This is a farmilar feeling. Loneliness, coldness, numbness, anger, despair, vulnerability. Take me away from here. I would do any number of stupid things right now to feel wanted and loved. Including the correspondence I am currently maintaining.. I won't go into it.

I need to write my own Manifesto.
In the mean time here's the Charolastra Manifesto from Y Tu Mama Tambien.

1. There is no greater honor than being a Charolastra.

2. Do whatever you feel like.

3. Pop beats poetry.

4. Get high at least once a day.

5. You shall not screw another Charolastra’s girl.

6. Whoever likes Team America is a fag.

7. Whacking off rules.

8. Never marry a virgin.

9. Whoever roots for Team America… (it’s worth repeating)

10. Truth is cool, but unattainable.

11. The asshole who breaks any of the previous rules loses his title of “Charolastra.”

(from Y Tu Mama Tambien)

Static.

Me: So I just freaked out at my mom.
Her: Why?
Me: I told her I don't want to go to school any more.
Her: Oh. *resumes watching the OC*
Me: I told her I'm sick of the same thing over and over. I told her I want a crappier flat that I can create in. Put as many hole in the walls as I want (smoke as much weed in as I want).
Her: Oh.
Me: She told me I should talk to my old shrink..
Her: Oh.
*Silence*
Her: I went to American Eagle today.
Me: Oh.
Her: Guess how much I saved!
Me: ....
Her: 150 bucks!
Me: Oh.
....
I told her that there are so many things I want to do. So many things I could do. Go to Mexico. Go be a nanny in England. Study in Ghana. Spend the summer in Quebec at least. I just feel like I need to escape. You know?
Her: ..
So back to my story about American Eagle..
I bought this awesome zip up, 20 bucks, 20 percent off! Can you believe that? The Bec bought this sweet polo for half off for Chris's Christmas present.
Me: *sigh* Oh..
That's pretty awesome.
*walks away discouraged*
*this is why I can't stand it here*
*do you not see all taht you are missing?*
*does no one see that there is more then this?*
!?!?!??!??!?
Her: *resumes watching the OC.

I want to run away.

Sweet escape!
Real freedom.
Let my hair down, drop the weight, feel warm, soft and firm.
Create.
Write.
Smoke.
Drink.
Stop wearing bras, and wear flowing dresses with perky nipples walking on the beach.
Rest my head on someone's shoulder.
Sleep with whomever I please out of passion and not insecurity.
Connection. Friendship. Love.
I need to start being true to myself. I need to start letting go. Being young. Being real. Beign FREE. I need to run away!!!!!

I need old vintage pots to cook over fires with. Bags of rice and lentils.
A sturdy bag. My jeans. A summer dress. A pair of sandles and a pair of sneakers.
A hair brush, toothbrush, shampoo and soap.
A face cloth and towel.
A blanket.
Paint. Paper. Pen.
A lock.
A pipe.
A train ticket.
At least a 1000 dollars accomadation and emergence.

Run run run. Live live live.