Dismal Calculations

I've already written so much today. I have actually written an absurd amount and I'm not entirely sure how I could possibly have more to say at all, but I do. Life is weird. College is weird. Moving is weird. I feel so damned homeless. I hate it, I'm right back where I was this summer when home didn't feel like home anymore. Then the dorms didn't feel like home either. Then I lost the only semblance of home I had here on campus because I have breasts. I don't want that. Lust makes me feel weak and helpless, it makes me feel awkward. I don't want it. It's self destructive and just makes a mess of everything. But I keep getting myself into situations where that's all that the guy is interested in. What's wrong with just talking? What's wrong with just sleeping? Spine to spine, two human beings taking comfort in their similar humanity and proximity. Sure, sex is fun, but since I've gotten to college it's lost its lustre, it's just this arbitrary thing here, it doesn't mean anything. It's a liminal thing that people engage in without thought. Inebriated, messy. The general issue of being a person with protruding hips and ribs and shoulders and elbows and collarbone, and striking the perfect balance of elbow-intrusion-less sex.
I don't know. I'm just rambling and complaining. Today has been less than excellent, despite promising to be good. I want to paint. I want to move into the house, all the way. I feel so isolated in the dorms. When I'm alone in my dorm I just stare at the wall, thinking about how many states I haven't been to. I've lived in this state for 83.3% of my 18 year life. I've been to 12% of the 50 states. I am 100% unsatisfied with those mathematical calculations. I think I'm going to try and live in Boston or something over the summer. Line up a job over there and see if I can crash with Keith until I find a place. I want to see the Atlantic Ocean. I want to see the country. I feel like I'm missing out on something, that something is lacking from my college experience because my actual life experience is so limited, geographically speaking. Maybe I've just got Wanderlust. That's distinctly possible. In fact, that's it. But I don't care. I'm legally an adult and goddamnit I want to see the country. I want to struggle, I want to live. I'm tired of living here feeling numb. Smiling and laughing to survive. Dancing in the rain because it's what there is and damnit I am going to make the best of it.
I mean, in the grand scheme of things I've got it good. I have a family (albeit a crazy one) who loves me, even when they don't understand what the hell I am doing or saying. I have friends, even if they are often petty and inclusive. I have good health, despite insomnia. I'm in college, and I was able to afford it, by the skin of my teeth. So, really, I shouldn't be bitching and moaning about everything. But I'm human, I can bitch and moan. I'm entitled to be angry and hurt sometimes. I just don't care anymore. It happened, everything happened. The timeline of the past three years and the damage the events therein incurred has happened. So I deal with it. There's no point worrying about it, even though I will. Right now I just have to focus on school, and on living. On taking comfort in the small similarities. On taking comfort in the little things like soda from vending machines at 2am. On huggles and potential adventures that are just as fun to daydream about as they are to follow through with. I want to see the Ocean. I need to see the Ocean. It makes all of my problems seem insignificant.