What if you were suddenly faced with the sad painful realization that:

You might not get that fancy job that pays 6 (or 7) figures that you dreamed of.

You might not get that condo with wooden floors in the upper side of town and little or no boring walls to interrupt your view or some cultural district where you can eat lunches at the park and vist musuems during the winter and,

You may not be able to give mind-numbing amounts of money to charirty or afford to dedicate an ounce of your time to any charitable organization why? because your presence at any of their functions is not worth anything.

You may not be able to fly to Europe spontaneously for vacations in the summer.

You may never be able to afford to go to a fancy, FANCY real expensive restaurant and order for yourself and some people in your party with the faithful assurance that you could pay the bill.

You may not be able to go to a designer boutique knowing that you came to buy. To Buy and Not to Look.

You may not be able to thank your family financially and otherwise for their kindess and your upbringing, and

You may never be able to meet that one guy who makes you smile and happy from the inside out, and makes your heart want to jump out and say thank you at every quiet moment you two spend together, and

You may never be able to find the inner peace that your restless, torn apart heart has always craved.

Well, this sadly is the story of my life.

Every time I find a cause to hope and dream and swim in these unattainable dreams I harbor something causes me to think aloud, and ask, "So what if you don't get these things in your lifetime? So what?"

I know what? My life will never be the same, and my soul will continue to roam even when I am gone knowing that these were the things I set out as my purpose and they were somehow stripped from me.

Have I ever considered the thought that they may never happen? Yes. Sometimes. In fact every time...in between my brief moments of living in someone else's life and as an alter ego, I have brief spasms of the horror that is who I really am and I live in that horror for only a millisecond before I revert to the overjoyous, amusing, cynical alter ego...who has peace living and breathing in someone else's shoes. Do I want to come back to who I am? Yes. Surely I do. I just can't. I feel like I am trapped in this path and begging to be let loose. I want to think, to breathe, to have normal 27 year old problems not to think 'what next after college, what next? or who is cuter than who or who sings better than who...not now not at this age not with the level of achievement I have undergone. Not me. I was handed the short stick and that stick is beating me and pounding me to death and I have no one to talk to about it. And no one can help me. This alter ego is the only way I have of staying sane, sober, and ALIVE.

This is me from a week ago begging to be let back to ME. And sadly, this is still the mindset of me, NOW.

Have you ever had a problem that has lasted so long that you suddenly think that frustrated is not a good enough word to kindly encapsulate the generality and futility of its resolution?

I have that same problem staring at me close at hand and it has lasted so long, that sometimes I think I lived life as another being, in another person, as some body else when I didn't have that problem hovering over me, and that this new person has forver been burdened with this to last all their life.

Frustration is not what I call it. It is more of futile and in some ways life-theatening so much that my sanity seems to be dangling by a thread.

I read someone's journal today, actually, Kalemachka, where she said that the terrorists that attacked the WTC and etc might not have HATED US (as we thought was the case) but where possibly, instead FRUSTRATED. They might have felt like a frustrated little ant trying to get their points of life and co-habitation across to the big being known as MAN, and trying to resolve possible ways at both of them having a fair share of life without running into each other or being bullied by Big Man.

I can relate to that. Why? Because believe it or not...this problem of mine does involve some measure of frustration at its evasive resolution, and it also involves some amount of bullying, pressuring, trampling and dwindling hope of co-habitation with me and the ideals in me. Because the problem is trampling on my existence, on my sanity on my life as God must have somehow thought it out to be; and no matter how I try to exhale in the choking whirlwind of its compressure, I can't breathe well, I still seem to be choking with every conflicting angle that rears its head.

I DO NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO.