all the wrong questions (by me and not lemony snicket)

I'm scared of that. I'm not scared of the idea of vacationing itself, but I am scared of only being with myself or my parents. I don't know what I'm going to do. Things are hard with my dad and my mom can be a landmine as well as a constant source of guilt for me, though she doesn't weaponize it, she's not that kind of person. 

It's reminding me of the pandemic, when it was all in its height and we were quarantined and all that because all I had was my parents and me. And I almost couldn't fucking take it and I don't want to almost be unable to take it again. I don't want to feel like that fucking bag of shit again. What the fuck am I going to do and how am I supposed to get through this. 

Who am I supposed to talk to? And why has my mental health begun depending on escaping and socializing to stay afloat? 

It's just 2 weeks. I don't want to talk to my mom. I have to help her dig out my house from the hole my dad's buried it in and I'm not sure how I'm supposed to be doing that by myself, but everyone is expecting me to, until they tell me they're not, but those times I know they're still thinking it. I'm not an idiot. 

I don't know what I'm supposed to do for the next two weeks and I don't know if I can do it. 

I don't want to do anything drastic. I don't want to fail to do what's stupidly and unrightfully become my responsibility. I don't want to go back to where I was two years ago. I don't want to disregard everything everyone has ever told me at anytime, anywhere, anyplace, quoting anyone...I just want the next two weeks to simply not exist. 

But they have a saying in someplace somewhere, "you make your own bed", and I don't make mine, but metaphorically I guess I am in charge of my own mind and I have to sleep in both...so I guess it's kind of the same thing. (Seems cryptic to me)

I'm tired. Are you tired? I don't want the world to end. I haven't really done anything in it yet. I make jokes all the time about how once I'm convinced I've lived enough for my liking I'll kill myself in like my 60s or 70s or something. But I don't even know if I'll have that chance. That doesn't mean I'll kill myself sooner, it just means that I don't understand why I have to waste my time trying to help a lost cause for two weeks instead of making some kind of life for myself. 

And the stupidest part is that I wouldn't make that life. I can lie and smile through teeth and say I'll work really really hard for two weeks to make a life for myself if only I was freed from my familial duties, but...like I said. It'd be a lie. I don't think I can do that. I don't really think I can do anything. Ever. I could step off a stage somewhere in 10 years with everyone clapping, leave the room, and it could be as if that never happened, because I don't know what I'm doing. And I'm starting to get tired of it. 

How do I get to a place where I know what I'm doing and I don't need to type into a word box on a stupid internet site. How do I work without believing I'm not. How do I start something I care about so much that I'd die if it failed. How do I help people I can't reach and how do I let those people help me. 

How do I recognize where I am, what I am, and how I am without dealing with me. 

I don't fucking want to deal with this. I wish I had my drivers license. Then at least the neighbors could know something was wrong based on the decibel point my music was on. 

I don't want to do anything anymore except for the fact I want to do everything. How is that possible? My very state of mind is an oxymoron. 

Rock on.