If this is my memoir, then so be it. Let it be on this night, when I decide to acknowledge that I am lonely, and often feel alone, even within the space of family and friends. Up until this exact moment, which technically, is now gone, I often refused to allow myself to dissect my feelings and emotions in writing, for fear that one day when I was dead, people would find out who I really was. Isn’t that weird, to not write your thoughts because you don’t want someone else to find them later? What was so awful about me, that I was afraid of someone reading it later? Not sure.
I fall in love, yet not, quickly. Then I get over it. Quick (except for that one time…). So, why is that? Or, is it even true? I have realized that I am extremely guarded. What got me here? I hardly dare let someone in for real, like for real for real. I push hard, and run away at the first sign of discomfort. Nikia says I can’t keep no relationship like that. She say it just like that. Huh, wonder why I wanted that thought to have a slave dialect to it? Pro’ly cuz I know das how the thought make me feel. Like a slave to anuva person’s way o’ thinkin’.
No, for real, I push hard when they try to get close, like the one who got away. And, to the one who read that smugly, that’s how I KNOW it AIN’T you I’m talking about. And yes, my neck just swirled- whatever, I’m allowed to have one moment of allupinmyishness and then move on. (pauses) Ok, I’m done.
Why is it that I push so hard? Is it some lame ass defense mechanism that may actually turn me into an old hag with cats (why do they always have cats?) Or am I the one who ends up adopting 8 kids and raising them alone, like THAT was my wish come true. More power to you if you are, but I am NOT that chick. I do think I need a man to help me raise a child. AND, I would like to be with that man for a long, long time. But, I don’t actually know if I believe it can happen that way. I know that I have to vision, then visualize, and create a vision board. But, I am not even sure if I really want kids, or if I just say that I do. Right now, I just want me. I am so tired of starting and stopping and pushing and pulling and not just being.
How long have I really felt this way? Has it been the entire adult span? I really feel like I have not ever given myself a real focused shot. I wonder what it would be like to focus on me for an entire year….. To create a life transformation program for me, and to take myself through the process.
You might want to write your feelings down love….. They are the revealers of who you are. It is okay to reveal yourself to your SELF.
I refuse to write the same things over and over again. I allow myself to feel who I am.
Like yesterday. I felt unwanted and small. I felt awkward and out of place. The situation does not matter, because I have felt this way before. But, in the past, I would either run away or lash out. Did I runaway this time because I chose to occupy myself somewhere else, or become I felt stupid and did not want to go off? Does it even matter?
Am I giving space because I feel good doing so, or because I need time to lick my wounds and nurse my ego back to health? What do I have to do to get myself to a place where I am not in some unsure space where I am playing a role or position? Where I know, and he knows, that we both want the same thing? How long will it be before I am able to pay for all of my bills for the year with my last pay from the year before? Am I actually capable of giving of myself such that I receive what I desire from the individual? How do I get to a place where we are all on the same page? I think I may leave everyone alone and allow them to be their own sieves, distilling themselves out of the process.
So, on to that, this matter of who and what I want. I think the one dude most surely proved that I don’t want some fine ass artist who only recognizes me between a haze of liquor or after performance high. That got fucked on so many levels, namely me pretending I was hard. I don’t think I ever will get over that, the feeling of how much potential we had. Knowing that I painted myself into a box with him is crazy. Whatever, it doesn’t change the fact that he acted an ass when he got the chance.
Ten Things Every Artist Should Know and Do
Believe in something larger than you.
Know your worth.
Create works you believe in.
Believe in yourself.
For those of who looking for one or two sentences that expound on each point so that you get to know me better, screw THAT shit. I am not writing for the choir or the pews but for me. I am resistant, admitting it, and working on it. Some people think that I have to reel you in for you to get this, but I am sure that you much more appreciate my fuck of go write your two sentences interpreting and let them get to know you attitude. How can I be an introverted writer if I write sentences that let you in to who I am? The audacity. Anyway, back to avoiding me.