i changed the description of my little blog. because i feel like i'm lacking a sort of real outlet. i find myself making songs and poems and things more cryptic or being as vague as possible because i'm always so acutely aware of the perceptions of others. which is sometimes a good thing, but most often not. this may be the quote of the year for me. so yeah. this is what's goin' on...
i've been sleeping with the windows open... i wish the rest of the house wasn't so warm, but i'm not the only person to live there. it seems spring is here, and i'm ready to soak it up before it gives way to the unbearable heat that dictates a humid virginia summer.
i think i crave silence sometimes. i'm getting to the place where i can't stand to hear people talking. there's such disorder in my brain, my mind, my thoughts and heart, that i usually crawl into the speakers and turn up the volume. there, in that little nook of safety, my thoughts come out in a pattern of rhymes and rhythms and chords and melodies. in silence my creativity blooms and rushes out to fill the air. and sometimes it's much too much for me. but sometimes i just need to let it spill out so i can organise these pieces of... me.
every day it gets warmer and i perceive that the ache inside gets more and more prominent. it dogs me every moment and from it i get no rest. it fuels my ambition. perhaps it is my ambition... i don't really know. but it comes somewhere from the epicenter of my heart's desires. the ones i've had since childhood. and everyday i feel farther away from what i want. everyday my needs are filled with what sometimes feels like a generic subsitute for the real thing. because the real thing is too expensive. i promise, i'm doing my very best to make the most of this unhappy season.
i know what i want. i know what my vision is. i keep writing it down so i don't depart from it. i keep running and training and waiting. repeat. i keep persevering. i make mistakes and i want so very much to learn from them. i'm doing the best with what i have.
but the best isn't enough.
i have this innate sense that my youth is being stolen.
i sense that i'm not a person who is seen and enjoyed. not in the sense of being "scene"... in the sense that i share my life with friends, family and a lover. all those 'captivating - soul of a woman things'... wanting.
there's a whole wide world to see, and i'm chained to a desk in a steel building by debts. i feel absolutely trapped and i cannot get out. i have this feeling like i've done something wrong and there's some sort of eternal punishing and i can't figure out just what it is. like i'm in hot pursuit of grace and being hunted by guilt. and i don't even know what it is i've done.
it overwhelms. it crushes. it presses down and robs me of joy.
i hate most of all, the fact that i am such a blessed, fortunate person, living in the glorious western world... and it is all i can do to pry myself from the sheets each morning.
yet i fix my eyes on the sunrise... the stars... the flames... all of these little glimmers of hope that whisper out of the dark.