Sometimes you realize how important it is to stop and remember you’re breathing. And there’s no gift greater than that.
Sadness has swept over my neighbourhood just as quickly as he stopped breathing. I never knew him, I never spoke to him, he was only a name, but the news shook me and story tore me apart. He couldn’t deal with the way the waves of life thrash you against the rocks mercilessly, and saw the only option as giving up and letting them consume him. But at the last second he chose life while struggling to float. The choice was too late and he was gone.
What if it had been you. What if you didn’t float. What if you sank because you gave up. What if it happened on the wind of my words. What if he didn’t come to rescue you.
I can’t think of what ifs. It infuriates me. Because I wouldn’t be able to fight back anymore.
So I chose to enjoy my life a little more that night, but even with his hand pressed firmly on my back I couldn’t keep the sadness out.
starting to panic.
i’ll be gone for two weeks. I might not survive.
If I do I’ll see you on the third.
A little bird has inspired me to share more of my work. Although I don’t draw as much as I’d like, I’ve got a lot of random drawings lying around.
So maybe it’s time I share them.
There’s a monster under my bed.
I put it there after I had gone through it and read it. It’s been months now. I haven’t touched it since then. It sits in a pile, mostly forgotten until its presence haunts me in weak moments.
The monster speaks to me “Why am I here? Why haven’t you gotten rid of me? Why haven’t you done anything? What’s wrong with you?”
It’s all I have left now. I’ve given everything back either because I should and it was never mine, or in hopes of sparking something.
“I sparked the wrong thing once, you know monster? You’re the result of that”
I have nothing left, and you have everything.
Can’t handle this migraine or what happened last night. I need sleep and help. I think I’m forgetting how to have fun.
I’ve been feeling extremely restless. Not in the sense that I have to get up and move. The exact opposite in fact. So restless with my life and choices and the things I know I have to conquer that I’m incapable of getting out of bed.
I haven’t written or drawn or read or anything in so long. I can’t. My mind has put up a barrier that I can’t overcome, behind it lies my creativity and motivation. I want so much to tear it down but I can’t.
Over the last couple days I’ve started taking steps but they push back and I fall farther reaching a breaking point. But I’ll get back up. I drew yesterday and made some calls. Getting the right information to help me. I can’t let this anxiety control my life. (I say that, but most of the time it holds the steering wheel.)
Winter shuts me in my shell and throws rocks at me to see how much I can take. Summer makes me feel worthless and a waste of life.
I’m not happy with my life right now. But I’m happy. That may not make sense. I’m losing friends faster than I’m making them. I’m staying the same while they change. I feel guilty all the time and stupidly think about my wedding and who I would want as my bridesmaids and more importantly maid of honour. I know the answer, but it’s unrealistic now. I have to move on, I can’t keep waiting.
I was hurt and embarrassed at the time, knowing that observations and thoughts could influence such a black hole into creation. Words shouldn’t be erased because they’re being read, they should be embraced. Even though my motifs may not have been pure. It doesn’t matter now. It’s lost. But in an odd sense, I feel free. I might never be completely free from guilty or curiosity (I don’t know what to call it). But I feel lighter by choice, not because of the action.
Now I’ll pick up my pencil and my book and leave.
Would you be my maid of honour in ten years?