Twenty Three Years of Solitude

I turned Twenty Three yesterday. I started a blog today, after I saw a friend had one.
I turned Twenty Three yesterday.
23 on the 23rd.

My New Year's Resolution for 2009 was to create a new me by my birthday, 8 months and 23 days was enough to give birth to a re-formed person, correct? A bit pre-mature, but I planned to have a natural birth, maybe in the bath, with Shiraz and Miles Davis in the background. A bit pretentious? That's me, a bit pretentious. I cannot rid my new self of that genetic pre-disposition. And, now I sit, 23, and wonder, did I succeed? did I create a new me?

Question: Why a re-birth? What was so horrid about me that I needed to annihilate my former self and create a new me? What have I done differently? I started smoking pot. I withdrew from college. I photograph dolls. I continue to write. And that's about it. I'm as bitter as ever, as distrusting as ever, and still feel as ancient as ever. I talk to my older friends, mostly, they are all older, and feel so less then...their attitudes promise there is more for me, more hardship in the future, more snakes on Medusa's scalp to tangle and tango with in the mirror.

My first blog, which died years ago, was one of teenage angst and unrequited love. How simple, how sappy. How easy to relate to and hilarious in its simplicity. I long for that simplicity back. I long to be able to focus on one minor thing and make that my wound, but there are so many wounds, the bullets are still flying and the gauze of therapy and drugs have become blood soaked and caked with mud by their sheer gravity, and they have fallen, that shroud of immaculate health, into the trenches below my neon colored sneakers.

So many things need to be opened, its as overwhelming as a bountiful Christmas that wasn't asked for. My thoughts refuse to be those practical and hideous argyle socks freshly fallen from the knitting needles, nothing of use, all garbage and all wanting to be released from their numerous packages with botched wrap jobs.

The purge has begun, regardless of the success of new persona-bearing.