This, my “blog”, has become a little bit of a burden. I feel like there might be a better word to explain it, but “burden” fits it for now. I’ve had it since 2013, and have used it for many different purposes. But now I feel like it’s just sitting here, wasting away, because I don’t know how to use it, what to write about, who my audience is, and all of these questions keep burdening me to the point where I just don’t write for it anymore.
I have a private blog that I write in almost every day- just super random thoughts, notes, reminders, etc. I also journal still. But writing for a public-ish audience still frightens me.
I definitely miss the days of writing papers for school. Researching topics, Writing about the potential meanings of books… Learning about the world and exploring it deeper by expressing myself on paper.
Now that I’m not in school and I have a job and busy schedule, it’s hard to find the time to just sit down and write, let alone think of a compelling topic to write about. I think writing solely about myself must be a bore. But then again, the purpose is for me getting my voice out there, and finding my vibe along the way. I can’t give up. I can’t lose hope. I’m just going to keep writing.
I’ve lost so many friends this year. And I wonder, is it my fault? And I don’t want to know the answer to that question. Is it because we were never truly friends in the first place? Is it because nothing is real anymore? People place so much value on their social media accounts and appearances. Nothing is real anymore. Forced. Fake. Fragile. Broken. No one wants to share their broken pieces and let others help them mend them back together. Pride. We are all broken. Lost. Lonely. Scared. I can smell it, the putrid fragrance that develops densely, deep within the bones. The scent pierces my nostrils, envelopes my lungs, sneaks into my pores. It becomes me, and I become it. I take it on. It conforms me.
So, I don’t really know who reads this… I don’t advertise this site/blog to barely any of my friends, it seems to intimate for that. But I feel comfortable with the blogging community, maybe because they don’t know me on a personal level. Sometimes it’s easier to share with strangers and fellow writers. And there’s just some things I need to get out/explain. I have not posted anything here for literally 18 months. Why, you ask? I was in an 18 month structured therapeutic community for addiction and alcohol dependency. I went without social media literally for a year and a half. It wasn’t allowed- no facebook, no email, no nothing online.
Now I’m back, and getting online now is almost overwhelming. I want to get back into reading and writing… It’s my passion, it’s who I am… While I was gone it seemed like a lot of my passion and motivation for this creativity dissipated. I did a lot of work on myself, though. Picking back up on this has been a little more difficult than I foresaw. A lot of what I used to write was inspired by fear, hurt, shame, loss…. I feel that when I tap back into that, my creativity flows easier and smoother; it’s more profound. But I also want to be inspired to write when I’m happy, feeling blessed and excited.
I’m still on a journey of finding myself… What do I want? Who am I? Who do I want to be? Right now I’m just going through the motions… making sure I stay sober, making sure my maladaptive thoughts don’t get in my way, making sure I have my priorities right… What a crazy, unexpected, long, and amazing journey this has been and will continue to be.
It’s weird how words express our feelings.
Sometimes words can’t do this.
I was looking at a tree today.
I’m not sure what kind.
A tree with green leaves.
Really tall and overpowering.
What I thought of was,
I’ve never really appreciated this tree.
Or trees in general, in a really long time.
“Appreciate” being the key word.
That’s the closest word I could come to the emotions that I felt.
But it was more than appreciation.
It was love, it was sad, it was happy,
It was… Confusing.
I moved to an apartment
In an area where I don’t see trees
But I used to live by trees and see
trees all the time.
But i didn’t appreciate them.
I didn’t miss them
Until I went to my parents’ house,
the house I used to live.
I saw the tree, and I saw the life
that I forgot about.
Maybe not forgot, just never
“Watch your thoughts;they become your words.Watch your words;they become your actions.Watch your actions;they become your habits.Watch your habits;they become your character.Watch your character;it becomes your Destiny.” -Unknown
Placing words into what you feel
Cause the layers of your core to peel
Whether it’s Anger that distraughts you
or Confusion that betrays you
It’s Anxiety that simmers within
The good angel seems to never win
It’s the Sadness that overwhelms for no reason
and Loneliness seems to be it’s closest cousin
Sometimes all of these things that are unseen
Seep out of the pores altogether, making it Mean
A scene never meant to be seen
The only Context that gives it most Meaning
Is putting the text on paper, so Rich, so Gleaming
It does its part to soothe the Heart
and transforms it intrinsically into Art.
It takes your inner bag of shit
and becomes the Number One Smash Hit.
Or you can keep it to yourself in private
To make your journal utterly vibrant
No way is Right, no way is Wrong
As long as you make it sing like a Song.