Saturday, September 15, 2018

you.

you meet 
you speak, 
you show the colors you want them to see 
you fear they will find you out
you hurt and hurt and hide
but you are you 
and you were young 
your friends see you as a younger, less complicated you
try to see yourself that way. 


you are a younger less complicated you and you are still you. 

Wednesday, June 6, 2018

Tonight I had to force myself to stay alone in my apartment. I have a tendency to distract myself with other things when I am feeling anxious. And this anxious un-driven feeling I get has to do with my knee-jerk tendency to not focus on the thoughts I need to have. Tonight was one of those moments. Relationships tend to distract me quite a bit as well. Tonight my boyfriend was busy and couldn't come over. I'd been out with girlfriends before, but continued to check my phone to see if he had texted me. I came home and continued to feel bored, anxious, and not ready to delve into my interests, like drawing and music and my life. After talking with him briefly on the phone I hung up, got myself off my bed, washed my dishes and began to look through old photos. I came across a beautiful photo of my mom laughing. It was a picture that I shot on a sunny day when she was visiting me on the farm I had lived on when dating a previous boyfriend. She wanted me to do a photo shoot with her to use the photos for her business cards. And so we went out, carrying my fake violin for her to hold as she smiled. I kept making jokes and she kept laughing. I used this photo as a reference for a drawing I started tonight and I began to cry, sob actually.

I remember when I started drawing. I've actually drawn my whole life. There isn't a time that I remember not knowing how to draw. As long as I can remember, I have drawn or referenced something in the world that I have seen, and tried to recreate it.

I remember my mother crying all the time when I was little. At that age, I didn't remember a time that I knew her to be happy, actually. She was always crying, always depressed and overwhelmed. At the age of around 5 I remember her laying on my bed and crying in my lap.

Now she is happy. She is a radiant beautiful person that I didn't know before. The whole family has come to a much better place with our father out of the picture.

He was manipulative and mean. He was anxious all of the time, and he would not follow through with being a good provider. He didn't take action for his life and he worked himself into a downward spiral of depression and unhealthy habits. He became an alcoholic, he was abusive verbally and mentally to all of us, and ultimately he began to molest me. He hurt us all in such a deep way, that there are still pains that come to the forefront of my mind when I least expect it. Like, when I am alone.

I sat there, looking at her laugh, realizing that this was a new laugh and smile I hadn't seen before. She is so free, and I think I am slightly jealous of it. Is it her age that brings her such peace? I have had moments of pure joy like this, but I can't help but think that time will un fog my sense of who I am. I really want to be carefree, but I am quite often worried about what others are thinking of me. This mostly has to do with significant others.

I want the pain of the past to go away, and I want it to hurry up.
I also want to get this all out in art without being so goddam exposing of my life story. And I want it to feel fulfilling and more freeing every time.

Now that I've had these thoughts, I'm going to tuck them back into a safe place, go to sleep, and wake up to a new day tomorrow.

Thursday, January 4, 2018

Blankly I wait for the words to come out and escape through my fingertips. I wait in a sense as if lost, my desire to speak paused. There isn't even a reflection here, I'm contented. My face staring back to me from a lifeless pool of luke warm water, and I gaze back. I pause, I wait, and nothing. There are things yet to come for sure, and I don't worry so much about it, but I'm living an adult life now. Not forgetting how to play, not forgetting my creativity and my imagination, but feeling love again for the first time. Again? For the first time.