12/16/2009

i don’t think i want to admit that i’m not a soap bubble of happiness. i don’t want to write because reading my own words is a downer even for me. i remember..transitioning. getting to middle school was shocking with how mean people could be so i rebelled for a couple of years, and then in eighth grade pretty much decided i was going to be happy because happy, bubbly people are what other people like. then i rolled around mixing highs and lows, trying to hash a personality out of all the things i was seeing and doing and trying to be.

now, here i am as a twelve year old, again. i wonder if this will just happen every twelve years, an awakening where you see that everything around you is not a shiny ideal, dreams don’t equate to reality and you basically have three options: pull back into your head and refuse to deal with the meatspace around you, abandon your dreams and become what your responsibilities alone dictate, or start taking steps to see how they integrate. it’s like i have to explore both extremes first before arriving at the integration prospect…

i’m here now after a conversation last night with my husband. i’ve gotten into the habit of word vomitting on everyone around me, where they’ve all become sort of cement walls for me to sound off at, impersonal beings from whom i do not require thought, but presence. i have decided that i don’t want people to be this to me, but i do still have a need to just put words out there…hear myself, face myself, feel gross about what i’m saying or thinking and maybe admit some reality.

…and some dreams, too. because sometimes sounding off is a way of relieving the thoughts we’re carrying around.

so for what it’s worth, whomever reads this, it is here. this is semi-anonymous but still public enough that i may get a voice in return. either way i will be satisfied.

2 AM and I’m still awake, writing a song
if i get it all down on paper, it’s no longer inside of me,
threatening the life it belongs to.
and i feel like i’m naked in front of the crowd,
’cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
and I know that you’ll use them, however you want to.

breathe|anna nalick

i would rather evade the pain it takes to make music like anna nalick’s. i was reading over more of her lyrics and just the glimpse of her pain…i’ve gotten to where it crushes me so hard that i generally don’t enjoy reading or listening to things that raw, anymore. i know they’re produced songs, distributed for the listening but it makes me uncomfortable to be privy to those thoughts, almost…like intimacy i don’t deserve? but maybe it’s because i got into the habit of hiding my own feelings.

he can see. he can see everything and he knows when i am just chipper for the sake of it and when it is not radiating from my soul. i am afraid i will not be loveable if i am not happy all the time.

and i am through with this entry because i am at work and i will start to cry if i continue.

all my love|let’s be free