Sunday, April 29, 2012

My entire system has been on a roller coaster ride that won't stop for the past two months. It's all very devastatingly sad... break-ups. Y'know? But we move on and we find strength that was buried under what was once passion. I just worry that one day I'm going to build my walls too high for even myself to crawl over. Now is the time to love myself. I was so unhappy. I was so sad. Even with him. I don't even know who that person is anymore. Whether or not I miss the relationship doesn't change the fact that I am still sad. But I need my love to never be taken for granted again. Because everything I love, I love with a love that is so much more intense than what society thinks love is and sometimes it makes me feel like my skin is burning or my heart is being ripped apart. Passion is beautiful but sometimes it physically pains me. Even with my art. Most days I want to run and run and run and never stop and scream at the top of my lungs into the wind and feel my legs on fire pumping blood and bleeding sweat. And for absolutely no reason at all but to release the flames that are pulsing beneath my rib cage. I don't know what to do, I guess. But I think that is obvious. I just don't know.

Saturday, April 28, 2012

I'm really enjoying blogging lately. It's strange how I feel safe to express myself here no matter how personal the subject is. Maybe I feel like no one can read it. Though I still feel like a voice in the darkness screaming because I want to be heard. I think it's because the people that I really want to hear me aren't listening anymore.

There are so many things I want to say to you still and it's overwhelming. I'm vindictive. I want my words to seep into your bloodstream and poison your thoughts. It's sickening how big of a desire there is within me to hurt you. I'm still so angry at you every day for everything you said and didn't say and everything you did and did not do. More often it's for the things you never did. The things I wanted you to do. The things that, in my opinion, you just should have done. I don't care if you read this and I don't care who else does either. I don't care anymore to censor myself. Why should I? Why not just spill my soul even more into something that can't be seen or touched. Kind of like you. I spilled my soul into you, into us. You couldn't be seen. You couldn't be touched.

I wish I was untouchable. Maybe that's the only thing that is admirable about you... your ability at being completely unimpressed and unphased by anyone around you unless it's directly adding a negative weight into your personal life. But then again maybe that's the worst thing about you, because I thank the universe every day that I am nothing like you.

I'm so over people's idea of Friday night fun. See who they can get physical with first out of many different members of the opposite sex. I don't like flirting. I'm bad at it and I'm not interested in it. But yet I still enter these situations and my very being feels dirty while there. I don't want to be surrounded by strangers in a crowed room while under the influence anymore. I just can't find joy there. Only anxiety and a less dramatic, but still very real, form of misery.

I've realized that the only thing that has brought me true happiness lately is my art. That tells me something wonderful, but also makes me worry that artists are doomed with a true, but sometimes hidden, sadness in their realities forever. All I ever want to do is to crawl away into my brain and nap in my imagination all day, every day. It's comfortable and familiar but then it still can surprise me with results that swells my body with a pride that makes me humble.

Sunday, April 22, 2012

I'm finding it hard to keep up on a blog like this. I have so many thoughts all the time, and if I took the time to type/write them all out for the world to see, I'd have the potential to come off as either a crazy person or a complete asshole.

Nothing seems to have been going on though a lot has still happened. I have a new car. I have more shoots. But everything is the same, always. Every week, every weekend. Work all day, party all weekend, and it's getting so cliche and so ingenuine. They blend together and I lose sight of what I'm really working towards. Which I don't even know what that is anymore ever since my life was flipped around two months ago.

I feel like I'm still crawling on the ground while he runs past me breathing easy. Cutting him out of my life recently was probably the best thing for me, yet I still find myself wanting to act childish and make or say things that he could possibly see over the internet. Something to get inside his head. But they obviously won't ever get into his head for so many reasons, and the fact that he doesn't even care to pay attention to me anymore, being the number one. Being broken up with is a lot like someone dying to me. It sent my body into complete shock that on a friday night he could say I love you and next day was able to say goodbye to everything.  Anyway, things are getting too personal now and I feel uncomfortable.

Trust is a problem. Always has been. I fear it always will be. What is anyone's intention anymore? To get ahead. To be great. I just want to be happy.

Friday, April 13, 2012

Sometimes I think I'm too full of passion to live in a place like this. Then I remember how great I feel on the open prairie and dirt roads and I realize how depressed I would become by leaving it. I'm scared I'm going stay here and be lonely forever. Why do I love to feel lonely? Why is it, when I'm with people, I'd rather be alone, and when I am alone, I'd rather be with people? I want to find just one person who gets it. One person to dream with and lay in fields topless and free with. Someone to explore every field and every road with. I don't care what they look like and I don't care about sex. I'm so damn vulnerable all the time and aside from it scaring me, I think it scares other people too. I'm sick of plastic love. Sometimes I feel so alone, stuck in my head. "No one gets me". Typical young minded behavior, you know? I feel like the thoughts that consume me, consume me and me alone. No, you can't understand  me. You don't think about the sky the way I do. You don't stare into the ground thinking if you thought harder you could bury your feet. You don't feel the way I do and you never will and I'll never know who to talk to. I never know if I can genuinely love someone ever again.

In therapy the other day I talked about a subject I've never talked about in so much detail with anyone, ever. Now I can't stop thinking about it. It was eight years ago and it feels like it was last week. It's really been bringing me down and today I've had a migraine since I woke up. It's frustrating knowing that person from so long ago still has so much influence on me to this day. I just want to move on and stop being so weak. I'll never ever forgive them. That worries me that I'll never get over it. But who really could?