4.29.2009

The Jilted Generation's Manifesto


I am angry.
I am scatterbrained.
I am scared and scarred.
I am nervous that this is ALL there is.
I am an over-achiever.
I am anorexic, but I eat anyways, so
I am guilty.
I am an addict to something, but
I am not sure what yet.
I am lonely even though
I am completely surrounded by people.
I am selfish.
I am genuine.
I am capable of many things, but
I am careful in my choice of words.
I am empty and numb.
I am overwhelmed.
I am craving a musical outlet.
I am hesitant.
I am untrusting.
I am vulnerable.
I am diseased.
I am tired of having things to complain about.
I am sick of responsibilities.
I am a hopeless romantic.
I am blessed, but
I am lost.
I am so many things that you never see.

Somewhere, inside of me, is the truth. It is spectacular and overwhelming and omnipotent. I feel the need, repeatedly, to dig deep, “hunker down” and process. I also feel the need to scream, but cannot find the voice, nor the sentiment. Instead I sink down, and nest in, fighting the storm. This “truth”, this fossil which I have discovered is quickly dispelled by any new colorful distraction to my hands and mind in good company, or some newfound irrational fear. But it is there: screaming and silent, mischievous and melancholic. It is something I battle and struggle with- often overcome with grief. A frustrated restlessness overrides my senses and suddenly I’m thrust deep into my nest of temporary sanity. I dig and press and push, until it screams out at me again, and thus: I purge. So, there it is. I know the truth- in its terrifying entirety. I’m sure that you are just dying to hear it- this girl, this naysayer, what could I possibly know about the truth? And, you may ask, the truth of what? Your questions, I’m sure, are many, and your doubt heavy and hazy and thick. But then again, I know the truth, so….I must know how you feel about my own admittance. Well, I have disappointing news for you, and you may not choose to read any farther, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take. I know the truth, I know it’s there; I just haven’t found it yet- much to my own dismay, you might imagine. Trust me. (Although, if I were you, I wouldn’t- this is, after all, my story.) The time has come, though, to quit hibernating, time to stand up and dust off- as one would say where I’m from: It’s time to “cowboy up”. So this, my dear friend, is the truth in its horrifying entirety, and we shall discover together what exactly it is that we seek. The intention here, is to tell my story and to purge all existence until I stand pure and full of light, face forward.