What's Wrong With Me?

More and more lately it seems like I'm not sure what to do.

I'm making friends...but not socializing.

I'm miss my best friend...but we have nothing to talk about on the phone anymore.

I want to start writing...but everything I try comes out sounding terrible.

I want so badly to scream, to shout, to do SOMETHING. Something that will make me feel.

Because here's the thing...I don't know if I'm feeling anymore. I don't know what I'm doing at all.

Honestly, I'm holding back tears here and I don't even know why. Why am I feeling sad? Am I even sad? What do I want? I don't know.

Through all of the new people I'm meeting...I honestly don't get the feeling that any of them get them. Then I'll call my friends from home and talk to them on Skype. These are the ones that I understand. That I feel like I can be myself with and not have to worry about what I say and how stupid it comes out because they'll say something as ridiculous.

I want that here with me.

I wish that I could transplant all of my friends from various parts of the country and just bring them into my dorm and it would be amazing.

A lot of you are my readers, I'm thinking. You hear that? I MISS YOU.

I'm looking at moving out of California in the future. Short term, I'll stay here. Possibly do a study abroad program for 6 months to a year to get out. Finish undergraduate and from there... I don't know what. I've been debating grad school in New York. But it doesn't seem worth it to me. I'm tired of school. I'm ready to get out there and face life. Writers write. And writers can write from anywhere. Maybe London. Venice. Somewhere where I belong.

Ultimately my point in this whole post is that I don't feel like I belong anywhere.

At home, the people were right...but the atmosphere wasn't. Here seems to be the opposite. However, despite yearning for this life for so long, I'm beginning to think LA just might not be for me.

I'm lost.

And my writing. I mentioned this a moment ago. I've been wanting to write. And I have been on some degree. Actually, I wrote 10 pages of a short story for my Creative Writing class. But when I got close to finishing it...I hated it. So it went into the handy dandy "Trash" icon.

Everything I'm putting out lately has been crap. Even my grades are turning to crap.

It's like, in the months since I got out of my first year of college and now, I've lost something. Both physically and metaphorically. I mean, I lost my home, my friends, and most importantly my father. Metaphorically, it seems like my inspiration has withered away. I have all these books in my head that I'm trying to write...but I can't seem to find the will to do them.

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There. That helped a bit.

I'm just wondering what's wrong with me. Something is. But I just can't put my finger on it. I just miss my dogs, my dad, my life, my inspiration, and the friends I care about so dearly.

Depressing blogger, over and out.

--Chelsea