I often get what I like to call pre-sadness sadness or sometimes even pre-frustration frustration. I always feel it coming, and maybe that always leads to its premature launching as well. But one thing that never seems to happen is pre-happiness happiness.
I am always being haunted by some type of ghost that whispers chills down my spine or slaps smiles on my face out of the blue. It never lets me go. It’s my own personal rain cloud that makes the sun sad, but is necessary to fill me with rainbows.
Sometimes i wonder if it’s just the way that I’m wired that makes everything feel like different shades of blue, that makes even the sunshine feel like rain.
I feel like my soul was never properly tuned before it got out of the factory, and so I am stuck vibrating on this weird frequency forever. It doesn’t mean that I don’t feel happiness, but it just vibrates in me differently than it would in most people I know:
It is butterflies in my stomach vibrating in black and blue, echoing into the night;
It sings with a cold voice that haunts my ears;
It’s the air I breathe that punctures my lungs;
It’s the water that then fills them and makes everything go black — just so I can better see the Light.
I often think that I am simply not wired for this world because no matter what I do or where I stand, I always feel out of place; it all feels so wrong.
I only feel good when I am performing or creating. It transports me closer to a blurry line between our Universe and somewhere, nowhere, where parts of me remain. The parts that never ran fast enough to follow my soul into this world when I was born.
And, when I am in that space, floating or maybe standing strong for once, things make even less sense. Then, I remember that they don’t need to; pain screams louder, but it’s only screaming light and love.
I’ve always had a hard time believing in the concept of “home” but,
When I sink in the ink and become my words,
When I drown in the sounds and become my music,
I understand that it is what I’m wired for,
And it is a home because it isn’t a place that disappears
And it is a place that also holds the essence of the ones I love — I can always find them there.
But Time isn’t my friend, and it knows how to torture me,
It always brings me back to that other place, where the oxygen suffocates me and the light puts darkness in my eyes.
This is a very dramatic post to say that I had a hard time at work today, and I am beyond tired of never having the time, energy, and will for my art anymore. I know Change is on its way, and I am hanging on. But some days, I believe my headaches come from rolling my eyes too much after the people I have to put up with! Ha ha.
I am still trying in the meantime though, to do things, but it’s not easy, but it takes more than that to stop me! I am hoping to make some paintings for Christmas this weekend, and I really hope that I can and that they turn out okay.
Keep an eye out for a poem (with a much brighter undertone than this post maybe; depends on your point of view, really ;) I don’t think this post is dark, but I understand how it can be misleading) that will be posted tomorrow. It’s titled ”you are not alone” because you aren’t and neither am I <3