doubts

as i sit here writing an essay about why i want to go to france this upcoming summer, i can't stop to wonder what my real reasons to go are. is it because i want an escape from this monochromatic scene? is it because i'm so tired of trying so hard? is it because i have doubts? doubts, doubts, doubts. why do i have to deal with this? i'm so sick and tired of trying to please everyone. i am detached from everyone, everything, everywhere. here i am gasping for air and screaming for help. i'm not even asking for a savior. all i want is a companion. but even those, i have none.

"A line from my diary: 'We are sealed in our 

own little melancholy atmospheres, like 

planets, and revolving around the sun, 

our common but distant desire.' "

-Jack Kerouac to Allen Ginsberg, August 1945