fears

9/6/15 – Day Twenty.

I gave myself a break. Where I didn’t think about anything with the exception of what is in front of me. Something simple. Something sweet, anything to occupy my time away from these thoughts. How do you explain that one day you woke up hating everyone and their existence? That words from everyone close to you, make you shudder and shut down. Or that you can’t explain this need to be alone but you need to be. Why can’t words match what you feel in your heart?

People already think I am crazy, what’s more insanity with a little more misunderstanding. I don’t blame them for thinking that way, they’re only thinking what they can’t understand. I feel so misunderstood lately, that no one really understands me.  Not that it matters. I just don’t feel like painting my face like everyone else, when its not how I feel. I can’t force a smile when those are not the feelings I feel inside. Explaining yourself when you’ve run out of words to say. Its easier to talk about the weather, than say exactly whats wrong.

Half of the time I am not even sure whats wrong, and I am not sure I even want to say how I feel. But today I moved back from those feelings and washed those feelings right out of me. After a few days of living in my filth and not wanting to release these feelings, I am ready to start. Clean, brand new. Find new dreams and polish off the old dreams. Everything else just give it time to regroup itself. Through marathons of old shows and starting over with new shows. I watch what I love and what I fear, keep time with itself. Slowly coming in, side by side. I know I can’t hide from the world. I know I can’t pretend this isn’t happening. What I love and what I fear, will eventually walk side by side. Its then that I’ll admit that this pure fear is knowing that being alone is my burden and my strength. Every day I get closer to overshadowing my fears. I feel myself getting stronger. I feel myself getting better.  But everyone thinks I am crazy. That I have always been the crazy one.

It’s just hard to make someone understand, what they’ll never understand at all.

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The Places You Have Come To Fear The Most.

Growing fears in places where positivity is suppose to shine through. Finding fears in every day people, places, and things. Finding joy in silence and comfort in being alone, but I can’t hide forever. At the risk of saying how I truly feel, I let my fears do all the talking. Everything and everyone I once loved is slowly drifting further away from me. Further seems forever and every day is another day I watch everything slowly drift away.

Maybe I should disappear. Hide in the hills and watch the sun illuminate my surroundings, because all I do is allow the fog to roll in and ruin everything. But this isn’t negativity talking, I am a negative person with positive intentions. Maybe some day I’ll want the sun to shine down on me, just not at this time. Not at this current moment. I was no good to you then and I am no good to you now. My careless sadness has broken away from me. Everything I am suppose to love is slowly drifting further and further away from me. I don’t know what I am doing anymore. I don’t know who I am anymore. The longer I stand in one place, the easier it takes to watch the fear take over me. Where do I go from here? Where do I go to get away from here?

These fears take ahold of my limbs and absorb into my veins. This sad sick feeling of shedding this skin and finding what harbors underneath. I can’t keep doing this to myself. I can’t keep pretending that I don’t like this feeling under my skin, because its the fear that keeps me alive. I fear that after all is said and done, I will have nothing in the end. I don’t need anything where I am going. I don’t need you under my skin. I just need these fears to keep me safe from the worries at night. It’s the places that I have come to fear the most, that keep me awake at night.

And I am afraid to fall asleep.

8/7/2015

My dress it hangs there.

my-dress-hangs-there

Life has a funny way of imitating art. Which is why I find myself loving so many photographs, paintings, and writings of everything. Art has a way of captivating you deep down into your soul. Pulling something out of you that at times you forget you still had. I think of how much my life has changed and yet, I find myself so in touch with the past. How things from our present find ways to remind us of things from years prior.

Its when I think of the past that it reminds of me of the dress. The last dress I purchased that held so much promise of color and new beginnings. How the colors so different found a way to compliment each other. I think of the last moments I wore that dress, and how after so many years the image of that dress never seems to escape me. It continues to remind me of a halfway point. The point between here and there, never fully grasping the concept of being home. Home was where I was suppose to want to be, but being in between here and there I never understood. It took a while to get myself to pick up the dress and find it a home. Because keeping it stationary meant that it would last forever in that in-between places. That seeing it day after day and how it would just hang there for the world to see. Hang there for me to one day come to conclusion that this was home again. It was my own fear of returning home and counting my losses. My own fear of seeing my life for what it was, and not some in-between place journey but coming home to pick at my scabs and start over. The dress it just hung there, waiting, patiently to be put away.

It’s been months since I’ve put the dress away. Months since I’ve worn and seen the dress. Still the image of the dress hanging between rooms, doesn’t seem to escape me. It sits waiting patiently to be put away. I think of it as the last of the decades of leaving. The last escape of this godforsaken town. But still even months after it’s been put away, I can still see it. I see the blue, green, and navy. I see the image of the dress just swaying back and forth with the life surrounding it. I see how much I loved that dress when I purchased it, I see how I couldn’t wait to never see it again.

Art has a funny way of imitating life. I can sit and stare at a painting of a dress hanging between the chaos of New York, and still think of that dress. How the dress just hung in-between here and there. How much I wished for the dress to be leaving to far off distant places and instead watched it be buried to the back of the closet. Still that image beckons to me, haunts me. I watch the life of the dress disappear into the dark mysteries of life. Waiting, patiently for the day to reappear. Waiting for the day to be brought back to life. I just can’t bring myself to wear that dress but its memory still haunts my mind from time to time. On the days when I feel like I am in-between places. I’ll never know where I am going but I know eventually I will leave this place and with me that dress will join me. Maybe soon.

But still it waits.

Patiently.

4/14/2012

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