I need to focus on my own demons.
I need to stop wallowing in self-pity and sloth and get motivated towards the future.
I need to let go of worry, anxiety, and self-defeating doubt.
I need to accept that failure is not only a possibly, but an inevitability.
I need to grasp that failure is no failure if I have grown and learned.
I need to breathe in the joy of life around me.
I need to remember that I am but one expression of the human experience.
I need to acknowledge that I am always both alone and in a crowd.
I need to absorb something good for my mind.
I need to move, groove and shake a little something on my body.
I need to appreciate my friends and family more.
I need to meditate on uplifting thoughts for my soul.
I need to put positive action into work.
I need to find something to give me back my spark for life.
I need some serious soul searching, therapy, and meditation.
So in case my posts haven’t demonstrated for you, allow me say it:
I AM A FLAKE.
Or at least that is how it seems from the outside… but, in all honesty, it’s more like I am constantly evolving or shifting my perspective and ideas.
My opinions and thoughts behave like water; they ebb and flow with my moods. Some are unyielding ice while others are quickly fleeting steam.
(Also, I have these mad depressive episodes which prohibit me from normal human contact due to wild amounts of anxiety.)
Plus, I am kind of a flake… so what?!
Hoping to be back sooner than last time!
(but not promising anything because I refuse to give you anymore fucking ammunition to call me a flake… okay?!?)
I have found a new passion.
I am in love with ceramics. I can’t get enough.
I do extra projects at home just to try my hand at a new form.
After my introduction to hand building ceramics about three months ago, I knew that I had found a new obsession that will forever be part of my life; daily if I can help it. I’ve dove in head first and elbow deep, spending countless hours researching multiple modern ceramic artists for inspiration.
I personally try to create art with humor. I enjoy surrealism, especially grotesque and odd, figurative sculptures. I like modern & strange works of art, some are daunting, some are whimsical; all have a surreal feel about them.
from me to you.
It seems that the only time that I want to talk to you is when my life is awry and I need the open ear of no one and everyone all at once.
I am a mess.
Do I tell you that I have been trying to find the right anti-anxiety medication for weeks since complications with my usual one and now it just feels like a really fucked up guessing game?
My 4.0 GPA is waving goodbye as my social anxiety sets in making my ADD less manageable, my work less quality and my attendance less likely. I have spent the whole class period in the parking lot of the school with my hands firmly gripped on the steering wheel unable to convince myself to enter the building. I find every reason to put off the assignments until sheer panic sets in and I frantically try to come up with something that looks presentable.
But then I should be doing homework right now, shouldn’t I? 😳
It has been so long since I’ve written that it feels like I have lived a hundred lives & changed a thousand times.
My opinions on life and love and hate and drugs and mental illness and sanity and God and the universe and my past and my future all seem to ebb and flow unruly as the sea.
Today I am new. Today I am different. I may not always make new choices, but how I think on them will be.
Each grain of sand collecting together, building what will have been my life.
Why do we knowingly make self-defeating decisions?
Is it the comfort in the disappointment?
That old familiar friend, self-hate
waiting within our ear to whisper,
“Why not? You know you want to. You might as well. You are already thinking it.”
So you do.
Acting as though you are more clever than poor choices,
while you make them.
And then afterwards
that same voice hisses,
“You fool. You knew better. Aren’t you smarter than that?”
We spoke today for the first time since we parted ways.
Your voice sounded smooth- rich and velvety as it always has- but it sounded younger today.
Your deep, southern drawl and slow pace of speech made the words bend and last forever.
Oh, how I’ve missed your voice.
I miss the comfort within each drawn out syllable.
I missed the way it danced on the drums of my ears sending my heart into a frantic rhythmic beat.
I miss the kindness behind each well thought out sentence.
We agreed. We lingered.
And I let you go.
As I will have to do each morning when I wake thinking of your smile and each night when I go to sleep dreaming of your kiss.
Friends until the end.