My own life has been fairly good, in spite of everything going on in the world being more depressing than ever. I’m having second and third thoughts about everything, and I can feel my priorities shifting as I understand more and more about how the world really works. I value my own happiness now more than ever, yet still I am plagued by the mental storms sometimes. There’s so much I really want to do, so why don’t I just do it? I’m holding myself back and sabotaging my own efforts, but why am I doing that? Well, a younger me, whose artwork was shamed, belittled, destroyed & eventually forbidden from being made at all, learned some very valuable lessons: you don’t share your best with others, success comes with strings attached, work on a project a little at a time so as not to become too attached to one’s art, hide your artwork, and the best art is the art that is left still in one’s mind instead of the outer world, because the world will either tear it apart or steal it, or both. I’ve also learned that hard work does not guarantee getting what you want from it. I stop myself because both success and failure scare the hell outta me. I don’t want to try my best and still fail; I also don’t want to become successful and be put in a box or fed to the wolves. I’m also uncertain if I am ready to handle the attention that success would bring, especially since my best work goes against all kinds of social conventions. I often wonder if maybe my fantasies and universes are better left in my head to be enjoyed by me alone rather than shared with the world. I also often wonder if I’m really all that interested in being an entrepreneur, because money seems… well, all money feels like blood money at this point. I don’t know how to explain it, I don’t have the right combination of words to express how I truly feel about money, but I try think of it like witchcraft, or knives: inherently neither good nor evil in itself, but how it is used makes it so.
Anyways… I’ve been sleeping a lot lately, or maybe that’s just what polyphasic sleeping feels like. Been having some crazy interesting dreams lately that I can no longer remember, but I can still feel them after they’re gone. I feel like I miss a life I never had. I actually fell asleep on Q a week or two ago when we had planned to hang out, but when I woke up I still went over to his place and surprised him. We went to our little breakfast place again, and I loved it. Basically him & my roommate are the only two people I’m really open to these days. I’d love to open up to more people but people are messy and they love drama and I don’t like their shitty attitudes and besides, relationships are always more perfect in one’s head. So no, I guess I don’t really want to open up to more people as they are, I just want to dream of living in a world of people as I wish they were. Maybe that’s why I’ve been enjoying sleep so much.
When I was younger and far less jaded I remember it was easier for me to feel comfortable in my happiness as the world crumbled around me. I loved to draw and to read and to write, and nothing had to be perfect, it just had to make me happy, and in making me happy it became perfect to me. Back then I really imagined a quasar-bright future and felt like it would one day be attainable. I am not so naive now, but I really want that starry-eyed girl back. I’ve been trying to heal & forget & forgive in the hopes that I’ll get her back in my life and she’ll turn out to be the missing puzzle piece that I needed all along, like a missing piece of my soul. She’s returning, so slowly, but she is coming back. It may take the rest of my life to get her back. No matter, what’s important is that she returns to me eventually rather than never at all.