Let Me Just Say...

So, as of today, the gym, so far, has been a good deal of help in maintaining a manageable mind, as with everything like writing, video analysis of horror movies, and short films, and going to Rio 24 movie theater every other week; I’ve grown, however, wary of my personality change, common of course, as I’m aware as a progression of health is seen as one positive accomplishment many seek to experience. I know many have, already, at this age; and I'm 20 years old, I think.

Me and my mother, in an old condo, close to the ditch of Albuquerque running from UNM to the Balloon Park, are middle of moving to another apartment, and, as I’ve become accustomed to the life many adults sink into of mundane living - as harrowing the moving process is, It will always be my task to remain good and diligent. It doesn’t mean, though, that I could express the smallest passive aggression. Accepting this agitated part, I usually name Trevor - he's learning to part from me when I have to do more important tasks, like hanging the clothes, doing the dishes, or making one last round of reading about Edgar Allan Poe's confusing word choice in ‘Man All Used Up.’ Dear God, especially the terror that comes soon around this age - taxes, numbers, agents, and troubling feelings about worthiness and building a decent person out of myself. This job after job could really get into people's heads. As I sit on the couch watching hours of dashcam crashes and game plays on YouTube or rewatching old videos saved from 2015. Going to the gym stimulates my fears, writing my conflicts makes it meaningful, and horror movies make it worth looking into, and then the cycle continues.

The last time I slept for a full 8 hours was last year; ever since working just as an associate at a rental store, and quitting completely at UNM, provided myself time, rethinking over the days and nights, that I'm likely to be subdued on a level of standard life - this both excites me and paralyzes my heart. I'm one with average people, I thought anxiously, and when waking up every morning - or should I say by noon - towering over me is that depressed custom many adults express after thirty or around the edge of thirty. Turns out, this feeling is more common after high school for many young adults. This feeling I’ve read at least in many stories, including Shirley Jackson’s ‘The Renegade’: “that awful molasses feeling,” wrote one line; but looking first at my phone every morning, Instagram, seeing many profiles of others clearly taking advantage of the whatever amount of youthful aesthetics they have to honor proudly, I’d couldn't compete with that ‘all-American’ look many adults want their young adults to seem all over, among professional people especially. I believe, out of all of the parents in Albuquerque, mine are the rarest to accept we come from the same hellish beauty line of greedy, selfish, and undeniably broken people, while the rest seem to feel they are the rarest to accept they can progress and make due of the optimism that sets forth against conservatives or liberals, or some gray attribute they don't want their kids knowing yet is true- whichever you prefer; I really only find myself among many in those parties; scattered in small versions of me, playing a small part in everyone's lives.

I only say this, my attractive reader, because I do experience major doubts, many moments recently, that my life will not last after 24 years old. I at first thought because of suicidal urges, but recently I've gathered such information from life, my memories, and about my own family trauma - their history and life paths leading till now (like my 3 sisters’ real father, my mother’s childhood, my dad's aggression at a young age…) - I suddenly grasped an unusual feeling of what might be death, petting my hair, and whispering, “Be calm. Your moment is coming.” Whether this might be a proud moment that time is changing, “things will likely get better for me”, or, if I'm growing absolutely insane and soon could be developing schizophrenia or psychopathic impulses- now wouldn't that be, at least, different to take on for the rest of my young adult life, I thought excitedly.

This couldn't be more true now: since I've developed a type of OCD not spoken, about but have been told is common, by a sweet doctor from the UNM family care; it's obvious something within my intense brain is making its way toward my life and soon will take on a conscious race, either against or companion me to be its mournful slave.

I thought about going to the all-mighty American hero Jesus, but found myself among many other peers, too aggravated to take myself seriously among the religion. So, I left - but did take notes on similar fears that many expressed in these preaches on Sunday or Tuesday that match the horror stories I read and watch. Only to realize how much is being told is more frightening than the face and brain they inhabit.

I tried witchcraft, but again, found myself confused about how to properly fit my own imagination and the basics of superstitious support within those spells, rules, and people.

All in all, the writer seems the best fit to tell my dreadful thoughts about life, people, hallucinations, society, my judgment, opinions, and even, the people I meet but tell with a different name.

Funny, however - I only started writing because of a crush I had in high school, who claimed he wrote and shared on Instagram. He was white, blonde, muscular but cutely short, senior - his name was Owen. He liked H.P. Lovecraft and hated Stephen King; - hate is a strong word; I'll just say he was confused by the hype about him - I’m sure many feel the same way. But, as I've learned more about horror, classic literature, and even artists, I've grown to almost picking up a book of his - but sadly, I found myself confused about the prose and barely piece together what was happening.

I was upset with myself, and after watching a trailer for a movie called ‘The Monkey’ out on February 21st, I now read and can say with confidence that I read one Stephen King work. With the help of an audiobook, of course.