Well I can’t wait for winter to be over. I’m really tired of the cold. I want out of this seasonal depression. It needs to be warm again. I feel like my fingers and toes are permanently cold. Spring come soon. Please.
I’ve been feeling a little crazy lately. Let’s take a minuet here to discuss something that most people find disturbing and strange: My need for pain. I don’t care if this is something that makes you cringe. If you don’t want to hear about it, skip this post. Otherwise, read on.
I’ve been pondering more and more about this part of me. I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand why I do need pain. I know why I like it. I know that it’s the only way for me to feel in control of my body- to feel alive. It’s a way for me to feel in contact with the connection between my brain and body- something we take for granted on a daily basis.
This brings me to something I’ve been wanting to do very badly. Suspending. I want to feel the rush and push the boundaries of what my body can take. I never want to hurt myself to the point that it’s dangerous or life threatening. Rather, it’s the opposite. I want to feel the pain so that I can feel alive. Pain is such a beautiful and pure experience and it makes me feel alive.
I feel like no one will get this part of me and everyone will always look down on me for it, but I don’t care anymore. It’s who I am. I will never be ashamed of it. I think it’s healthy.
But I digress…
I’ve also been feeling like I’m a failure as a person, as an artist, as a writer and a musician. I thought that I would have settled down, been married, been starting to think about a family. I feel like I’m far behind all my friends and family. I just want to feel like I’m in a concrete place.
I don’t believe that my art is worth much. It’s not important to anyone. It’s not life changing. It’s just ordinary. I have been writing recently but I feel like this is an impossible project and I’m just pulling the wool over my eyes. I’m fooling myself into thinking that it’ll be worth something to anyone other than myself.
I haven’t picked up my guitar in a few weeks. I haven’t written any songs. I fail every time I try. So what’s the use. I feel like everyone but me can pull off these masterpieces and I’m left wondering if what I do will be of any importance to anyone else.
I feel lost; like I don’t belong anywhere. I don’t feel needed or wanted. I feel like I’m just disposable. I feel insignificant, unimportant, small and ugly. I’m but a speck on this earth and I’ll just go unnoticed. I’ll never be recognizable.
I suppose it’s just the winter blues getting to me. Hopefully, I’ll break out of this soon. It’s no fun.
Otherwise, I’m hoping for a good weekend. I’m hoping for no drama and no dumb things to slip from anyone’s mouths. Just a chill gathering of friends to celebrate some birthdays- including the boyfriend’s. I’m going to try not to drink so much. I’ll probably drive home. It is his birthday. I’ll let him have his fun. It’s only fair.
I plan on writing more this weekend too. Hopefully I’ll feel like I’m getting somewhere with this project and not like it’s a waste of my time.
I will post a few of my old pieces and what I started last night. At least I can count on my art as a vessel of expression, even if it is worthless to most.
I’ll end my pitty party here. Here’s to hoping for progress. *raises bottle of Jameson*