questions, questions.

When will I truely accept it?
When will the cookie cutter image of perfection ever change in society's eyes?
When will I ever feel good enough?
When will you find me?
When will I fall in love again?
When can I speak my heart without hurting anyone?
When can I have peace? In myself, in my life, everything.

All these questions go unanswered, I need a new adventure, I need some new motivation to find these answers.
I need to pull myself back up, to gain enough strength to see clearly again, not let my insecurties get the best of me.
Does everyone else have these questions? These constant thoughts?
Theres a pressure in my mind, my heart.
UGH, the fucking frustration.
No one can save me but myself.
I need to step it up, I have to quit worrying about love, romance, future shit like that.
What I should be focused on is school, and getting out of here. I should be focused on making money and building a stable ground that I can stand on, with no remorse, no chance of disaster. I wish I wasn't falling into this cycle, where money is top priority, I wish I could be passionate and not have my life revolve around material shit.
Oh well.
Another day, another dollar, I suppose.

How many miles until I get out of this rectangular box of hell?Because these four same facesin these overcrowded spaceshave me praying for the placesthat will leave me one minute to myself(along with)the foreheads glued to window-panesthe sore-backs from kitchen-wood floorsAnd all the sitting, sitting, sitting in a van -- and yet I still want more?When there's a million more miles to roam,I think of the life left for me back home:A "paradise" to watch their "greener grass" grow,and all the time to be alone...?But two weeks home cripple mebecause the trees don't passand the lines don't moveas the white walls collapseon my ramblin' boy blues that's howlin'howlin' for that open road becauseno arms can holdno home can warmlike the gaze of the rays of a distant lost-highway sun.When there's a million more miles to roam,I think of the life left for me back home:A "paradise" to watch their "greener grass" grow,and all the time to feel alone.pave paradiseput the keys inturn the enginelet the big green van drive me from this cityto anything but simplicityTo anywhere from this city,To anything but simplicity.