How’s that first week going?

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HI hi hi! This is my blog, I wanted to talk about my day and so I will do just that.

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Much love for my host mom!

Maybe it sounds silly to you, but I sometimes forget that this is, indeed, my blog. It is my personal blog. But I sometimes get so caught up in the whole productivity log side of it and also, the deeper side of writing, that I feel like simple posts like this don’t belong on here. But, they do; of course, they do!

And as an individual, my emotions, my thoughts, my moods and my reactions to the Universe’s flow come in different colors and shades and shapes. And all of them are valid and worth, if no one else’s, my own time. They all deserved to be acknowledged, appreciated and embraced.

Now, this is so not what this post is going to be about but I think it is worth the mention. One of my new year’s resolutions is to “let my emotions shine again” which is intimately linked to “Not be afraid to be fully me, always.” Where these come from is the poor coping mechanism that originated from all the self-censor and shutting down provoked by the small repetitive teasing & joking around of my peers.

I could write a lot about this topic, and I will, eventually at some point. All I wanted to say right now is that it is an issue that I am working on and this what this post is about in a way also. Allowing all parts of myself to shine and co-exist on my blog is a first step towards that goal of gaining back what I thought I had to steal from myself to survive. So, let’s start, shall we?!

So far, this week has been going pretty good for me on many aspects!

I recovered from my sore throat very quickly and I’ve been rather productive. I mostly stayed in the house until I was sure I was completely recovered but I didn’t go crazy! I did a nice little amount of walking these past two days to make up for it, and I got to see Esther again (finally!!).

Today, I spent a long time in the morning working on the next chapter of my story, Uncage the Night. It’s coming along pretty nicely although I’m still unsure whether to keep that chapter as part of the story or keep it as an extra, after the story ends. It’s a disturbing one, but in a different way than every other is disturbing… It’s really weird to write it but it is such a crucial part of the story. Maybe not crucial but it is part of it and there is no way for me to just cut it out. It’s here to stay. One way or another.

Then, it took me forever to get ready as I was chatting with my best friend at the same time. I went for a walk down to Douglas. The plan was to go out for lunch on my own again and launch myself into yet another personal/creative project that I’m starting this year(which I’ll talk about later in another post! 😉 ). But, what I got instead was ten new markers and a tiny anxiety fit. Yeah…

It was a very small one but it took a lot of energy out of me. I swear it was such a teensy-weensy one. I wanted to go to a certain restaurant to eat, but as I walked in front of it and I saw the people inside, I just kept walking past it. And literally nothing happened. But there was anxiety involved and it still drained me. So I walked back up, took the loooong way home, and got me some chocolate chip cookies on my way back. It was tiny, but it still wrecked me; physically and mentally.

My body was tired. I was disappointed and a little bit saddened by the very lame surprise that interrupted my good time out. And when I got home, all I did was sing. Which helped me feel better. I just now posted a few clips on my Instagram and also a new cover on my YouTube channel. And I’m really happy about it in a way because, although it is FAR from really good, I can hear so much progress in my voice and it just sounds so… I’m not sure what it is. But it gives me hope & confidence about my musical future to be honest.

On the same topic, I’ve secured my spot for the 25th February vocal workshop in Douglas. I paid (I mean, my best friend did and I sent her a fancy fancy chèque) and I just can’t wait to go!! This is going to be soooo awesome!

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After the singing, when my host family got back home, I played around with watercolor for a few minutes, still needed to settled down from the anxiety fit. And then I did some hand study, using my crooked hands as reference. Using my A5 sketchbook more is part of my goals for this month because I only used it four times during my evening art classes and I’m not gonna lie, the size impresses me a bit; so I’m stepping out of the comfort zone, into the progress zone, yo!

 

I also worked on music theory. And well, what I’ve been doing is, basically, go back to the start of my book (once again!) to take notes this time with every chapter as I feel it helps me digest the content better. So right now my learning is in suspension, at the chord progressions chapter, and with my notes I’ve just reached the scales chapter (which is only four chapters away). I’ll catch up eventually! Goal for the month also!

If you follow my Instagram, you would know that I’ve finally gotten more serious about my learning to write with my left-hand. I have managed to work a bit on it everyday so far. And I intend to keep it that way. I’m doing really good!

Just like with the guitar, it is not actually learning, it is more about passing on already acquired skills to my left-hand. I can write pretty well already. It is shaky, slow and clumsy but I’m confident that by the end of this year, I’ll be very good at it!

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In other news, there’s a tropical cyclone close to my island right now. ‘Tis the season after all. We often got cyclones in January, I remember. Last time I read about it it was right on top of Madagascar and it’s been doing a lot of damages over there. It is so big compared to tiny Reunion Island! Ha ha ha. I went through a small storm a little while ago here in Ireland, so, chacun son tour!

And I think that’s about it for today! It was pretty weird and all over the place, but overall, it was a very good day! I still had a good time outside and walking still felt good through the struggle. Being home to my host family at the end of the day also helped a lot! And I am glad that I managed to get some work done!

Here’s to markers and anxiety fits! hehe

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P.S.: I haven’t touched my guitar very much during this week or ever since the school break to be honest. But I’m very excited since the Synyster Gates school has finally been launched! Anybody heard of it? Anyways, the kids are going back to school next week so that’ll mean more guitar time for me!!! ❤

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On my own is good too!

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I’m all tucked in bed as I type this from my smartphone. That’s a first! Haha I don’t really like typing on a phone; it doesn’t feel as familiar as with a computer and I like to go super fast.

This is just a small post I feel the need to put out right now, straight from under the covers and before I fall asleep.

I just came home from an art exhibition to which I went on my own. I had a good time and am really proud of myself! And I think that I need to acknowledge it in a blog post.

I took the taxi on my own. I survived. I went to the exhibition alone and I remained that way. I survived. I had a good time.

Before I left for the exhibition, my host dad was telling me that I should try to talk to 5 strangers. Setting up small goals to help me “put myself out there”, or simply be a normal human, a social creature and also spit on Anxiety’s grave. I spoke to my taximen with complete ease; so that counts as 2? Not really. While in the warehouse, I only spoke to three people and it wasn’t really talking. But my host dad told me it was still something.

While I was there and standing in a dark corner where I was sure no one would see me (except that one guy at one moment which was super weird), I started questioning myself. But once I got home and had a small talk with my host parents, I realized that I did have a good time. And also, I did manage to talk to people even if just a simple ” hi”. And most importantly, I enjoyed the art.

I love talking to them because they do that parent thing where they reassure me and they chase away my foolish doubts and self-whacks(yes). They help me feel better about the babysteps I’m taking. And also support me so well! And we were talking about my Xmas present and about going out one night the three of us to an open mic so they could cheer for me to go on stage! I love them so much.

Sure, I was alone and did spend a good twenty minutes standing in an out-of-sight dark corner and didn’t make instant magic friendship. But I had a good time. And I survived. I did all of it on my own and that’s a pretty big thing if you ask me!

I’ll obviously keep going to the events. (I got my membership card today and it made me feel like an important person hehe) And I believe that eventually, after times and times of seeing the same faces, I’ll manage to talk to someone eventually or I’ll pick someone’s interest enough so they’ll attempt a dialogue with me. Maybe next time. Maybe the time after. Maybe later. We’ll see. But it’ll happen. In time.

IMG_20171208_151625.jpgI think it is really important to acknowledge the fact that I did all of that on my own. And that I can do things on my own and have been doing that a lot for the past eight months.

My toxic relationships had me believing that I was a mediocre friend with zero social skills and also a dependant piece of crap that had no value on her own. But I know that’s not true. And I keep proving it to myself, especially lately.

I’m a good friend. A super good one for that matter. And I can stand alone. I don’t need people to have a good time. And I can do things on my own. I can stand, I can run, I can dance on my own. I am the fire and the one I need the most. I am someone to fall back on not only to all I love but to myself also!

I love being with my friends and doing things with them. But on my own is good too. And I can do all of these things alone.

[[Now I can be even wiser about the people I choose as friends. I know my approximate own worth, or at least I know better than to let toxicity back in the form of hollow relationships(rottenships), and I’m not afraid of cutting ties and throwing you out. I still give my all and very quickly and easily to the people I meet and care exaggeratedly about. But I’ve gotten better at closing the door on you if you turn out to be a ****! Not without a pinch in my heart cos I expected more but I need to make room for more love in my life and you made me miserable so you and my foolish hopes can fuck off. Ha!]]

I’m proud of myself for going to that art exhibition tonight and I’m looking forward to more. Now I’m off to sleep! Tomorrow I’ll be doing more stuff on my own but also meet up with Esther, whom I love, and I hope I can be a good friend to her and give her just what she needs.

Until next post, don’t beat yourself up and enjoy your own company. You’re strong and definitely good enough! ❤

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Sad thought from a happy day?

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Today I went out with my Lilly, her boyfriend and her nephew(and boy, has he grown!!). We saw the new Spiderman movie. I wish I could’ve heard Michael Keaton’s real voice instead of the French dub, but what d’you want? We’re not in Lille. The €€€ fly but your 20170715_122537-1expectations can DIE. Not really kidding, but you can laugh! I do cos it’s saaaad 😦

Everything was fine until we sat in the cinema and they started chatting together and I was left with my thoughts and the darkness(not really at first but it already felt like it).

[ I will try and be as short as I can because I am tired right now and at home. Honestly, as much as I’d have lots to say and write, I can’t just spend my time on a computer/phone. I take pictures and post them when the internet allows it but even if it means not doing anything or simply staring at my mom all day, I’m spending as little time as needed on the internet. ]

And as I sat there, she started speaking; that voice that just knows not how to lift me up. I tried to fight it and keep busy, devour my popcorn before the screen is even turned on, stare at the ceiling, listen to my friends’ conversations… But nothing worked. She just talked and talked. She put me down. She did not hit where it hurts, on those swollen bits of me I’m used to pressing on whenever the challenges get a bit too heavy and I fall. She hit on one of the biggest insecurities of mine… And that is, the stupid storm.

That voice wasn’t telling me how bad a friend I am, how boring, nor how I’ve been looking fatter lately, how I might not be as strong as I thought. No, she did not mention any of those things, because they weren’t so important at that time. The storm was the real thorn on the sole of my foot which I had to push deeper in, jump on and torture myself with.

She was telling me how weak I was.

Just a moment of slight darkness and I was gone, gone with the winds of despair and self-loathe. All it told me was “Look at you, the movie’s not even started yet and you’ve already let your thoughts flood you and drown you. Just a minute in and you’ve been reduced to a quiet piece of shit, and nobody even notices.”

I wasn’t putting the blame on my friends for not noticing me getting quieter and slowly fading in the background, it was all on me.

And the worst part was that, with all this already heavy enough bullshit in me came a crippling guilt which glued me to my seat. How could I be feeling bad and having all these thoughts run through my head while I was with my best friend and expected to be all about the good time? How could I just start thinking of myself and let sadness fill me while sitting next to my best friend whom I love and whose presence just completes me? I just felt bad for feeling bad, which is a feeling I’m sure a lot of people can relate to. And it sucks.

I had all these racing dark thoughts, sad ones and those mean ones pressing on my other weaknesses. But this voice was the loudest, the narrator of that afternoon. Because that’s what it was doing, narrating with acid words the mayhem in me as I sat near my dear best friend and her close ones.

And maybe the reason why I couldn’t fight it is because I agreed with it. The voice was right. I was being assaulted by those razor-sharp thoughts while there was still light in the room and I wasn’t on my own.

I don’t think that I can enjoy going to the movies anymore.

And that’s how I came to this conclusion.

I used to enjoy this because it was a way to keep me completely distracted from the bullshit inside and outside but just like a lot of things, it seems it’s not enough anymore to anesthetize my restless self. So maybe I should just stop going. I can still watch movies at home and it’ll be just the same but with more food! 😛

But really though, it sucks to pay so much money to sit in a dark room full of strangers enjoying a movie while you’re just melting on your seat and having multiple life crises at once. I can still enjoy it but it leaves me so messed up. And I feel even more alone like this, because I’m trapped in myself and no one can possibly know and it physically hurts.

Is it worth it?

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“help i had a good time”

It took me about thirty to forty-five minutes to get somewhat focused on the movie rather than my thoughts and hands. Just like it did, back when I still went to class, for me to calm down from my anxiety fits. It’s not as much a torture, honeslty. But it’s just not enjoyable, I’m so uncomfortable when this happens and I can’t escape. It’s actually pretty horrible.

So, yeah, this happened; again. I had a good time. I had a good afternoon. I was with my best friend and on the ride back home, even though I wasn’t feeling so well and quiet as fuck, she managed to make me smile and laugh and speak.

It was good but it was also really bad. And as happy a day it was, all it leaves me with, sadly, is this thought: I don’t think I can enjoy simple things anymore because I’m a wreck. I’ll try to hold on to the light of this day and the smiles and the good. But I seem to have discovered that brains tend to focus on the bad memories, or maybe that’s just me.

Everything is exaggerated in this 5″2 factory and well, I’m tired; I don’t want to type anymore.

That’s gonna be it. Longer than I thought it’d be, but I’m a fast-typer! 😛

Until next post, just, breathe. ❤

 

The Fighter in Me

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I’ve been a waste of space lately. Let’s be honest; this isn’t an overstatement. A piece of shit. My demons have gotten me really down and I’ve been a lazy leech just feeding on nothingness.

I got down and I stayed down, figured “hey, I’ll just bury my head in the ground for a few decades, no big deal” because I just couldn’t take this life so I just tried my best to ignore the fact that I exist. I was having an existential crisis and I just couldn’t be bothered to actually deal with it or with any of the storm’s bullshit so I just looked away.

However, yesterday (which is now two days ago) as I got out of the bus (I took the wrong one) and walked (while texting my anxiety away, narrating my stupidity to my bff) in a haste (I was late) to my therapist’s office (what a pretty messy morning, I swear), I heard a tiny *click* coming from the back of my head. As I raised my eyebrows and my eyes grew to be the size of the moon, I realized something.

Somehow all this early morning anxiety and lack of sleep had managed to trigger the right switch and unlocked a tiny little door from which came a revelation. I didn’t have much time to actually even begin to touch it with the tip of a finger that day because I was so tired. When I got back home, just slipped on my good ol’ depressed pants and trustworthy “what’s the point” shirt and faded to black once more.

But today; I mean, yesterday (what is time, I ask, what is TIME), I was getting really excited about going outside to explore a nearby place which I pass by when I take (the right) bus to see my therapist (who’s actually a nurse??). So, as I waited for the sun to just stop being so sunny so I could step out and do the adventure thing without burning to my death, I actually had time to let the revelation sink in. And just as I was ready to walk out the door, I had to jump on a piece of paper and pen to scribble all the words that just rained on me as it suddenly hit me and I saw it.

I saw the fighter in me.

I’ve been hiding, running away and just bathing in denial, forcing myself to ignore pretty much all that there is to life. I had completely given up on trying and was looking very seriously into giving up on everything and settling for a life into the nothingness. And yet, even as I, on the surface, was giving up, it was here in me and still doing its job. The fighter in me, that part that just doesn’t know how to give up and always fights for my life, even when I feel that I’ve indeed given up.

When I sat at my desk that morning the day following the *click*, I realized that, even though if not as intensely as I was supposed to, I indeed thought about those things that I was trying so hard not to think about while I was “wasting my days away”.

I was convinced that I had managed to give up for once and that I truly was on my way to that impossible reality where I don’t bother nor believe in dreams, light and a greater use of my time on beautiful Mother Earth. I truly thought that I had manage to kill all the light left inside of me and to be honest, I was actually happy about it. Because, let’s face it, this whole existence and fighting against the current to do things that you love and be a bigger “you” it’s just so exhausting and frustrating; so, managing to give up was actually a relief.

Now I wouldn’t have to worry about energy. I could be tired all the time and it wouldn’t matter because nothing would matter anymore. I could just bathe in darkness all year long and just lie on the floor, wait for the lightning to strike me and put an end to the joke. Nothing mattered. I had succeeded in taking away all of the anxiety triggers, all the problems, all the overthinking, all the horribly demanding efforts to go against the storm to do all those things and also all the good stuff like love and vegetables.

I don’t wanna be a musician, an artist with four arms that do all these different things and doesn’t suck at them. I want to be a mashed potato without seasoning and extra extra extra cheese and a nice side dish of “nope; I don’t life”.

I FUCKING WISHED RIGHT?

Turns out that I was right when I thought that it was truly impossible for me to give up and that time I said that even when I was giving up, I wasn’t. I just didn’t know HOW RIGHT I was.

I tried my best to keep my mind busy and not think about real questions and about me. I managed to satisfy the apathetic monster inside, feed him all the junk it wanted and become it BUT in the mean time, I also managed to keep fighting in the right direction in a way! Of course, it wasn’t a super effective fighting as there was so little of me involved in the war which is why the *click* took so long to happen. But it was still fighting.

I fed the monster and let it invade the foreground so that I could find a place inside where it was calm, oh so calm, and I could actually think of my life without any parasite.

My choice of distraction could have actually given it away that I was truly just finding a less direct and brutal way to face those questions. And it did. But just after the *click*. I realized that the things I was obsessing over in order not to deal with an overwhelming life, decisions to be made and that crazy wish of living life were, deep down, helping me think exactly about what I was running from.

The fighter in me, the part of me, the spark, that will never stop fighting against the coldest winds that assault me or that I will willingly let in to freeze my soul. That part that, even when reduced to such a tiny size and beaten up, can still stand up for me and what I believe in and resurface, always, and shush the monsters back to their dark corners. (For a while at least, just enough time for the soldiers to get back to their positions and protect that fragile soul)

Now, I haven’t completely gotten rid of the filth that I smeared all over my weak flesh prison. But I’ve been feeling that spark and it’s slowly melting the grime away and bringing some heat back in the main circuits. The fighter is swimming back up. Ha ha! And well, now my laughs don’t just sound like a sound that I send to bounce against the walls and fill up the room with some “nothing wrong here” vibes. I feel less dead. And ready to put myself back on track again.

“You live and then you die, what’s the point anyways, right?” That just doesn’t sound like me. Now, I don’t know if it’s depression or any other part of the storm and I don’t care. I know it’s not me. I don’t think this truly. I’m a stupid child and I believe that there’s more to life than slowly dying as oxygen poisons us. I believe in love and in making dreams come true. And I believe in light in the darkest places. And I BELIEVE.

I might be a fatalist to some extent but I’m what I like to think of as an absurdity, a convention of paradoxes. I always find myself at both extremes at the same time. I’m a fatalist but also an optimistic and a pessimistic and a believer and a skeptic son of a blurp. I’m everything and nothing. But I’m not a person that gives up or one that doesn’t see the magic and beauty in life and beyond.

And now that I’ve slapped myself in the face several times and am slowly waking up from a dead man’s sleep, I can see it again. These words that I spoke, thought, while I was this unseasoned mashed potato (Ha ha, I’m sorry x) I’m almost done, bear with me! :-p ) weren’t mine. I don’t know which demon spoke them but they weren’t mine.

The fighter in me is a real part of me. Those demons and the storm are also a part of me but they don’t define me. They are not me. They are what I believe to be essential parts of the weather in me, the rain that rocks me in bed and make rainbows possible. (You need ups and you need downs, light and darkness; there needs to be a balance in things, this isn’t a happy fairyland where all is well.)

They are parasites but I need them and I cling to them. I need them here but they aren’t part of my identity, they are just these little dark monsters that keep this universe running.  But I am not by any means them. I am not the embodiment of my disorders and, as much as they affect my everyday life and constantly torture me, they are not part of my identity. I consider them parts of me in a way, part of my universe but not me.

Anyways. It’s going to take me a few days to truly get back on my feet and get rid of the bullshit I’m covered in. But I’m getting back up and that’s what matters in the end. I think I actually really needed this time on the floor and horribly dark fake happy days! It’s funny I guess in a way haha

So, I think that’s it. I’m glad I finally managed to get all these thoughts out of my head! I started writing this at 1AM today (which explains the confusion with time at the start of it! 😉 ) and now it’s 6PM. No, I wasn’t writing all this time! I slept and I’m still having very slow days. Recovery is a process and honestly, I was really on the floor so it takes some time to get back up and this time longer than what I’m used to. But yeah, I’m finally done getting it out of my chest and I can actually even more internalize the information now. It feels great.

I’ll end this post on a quote from Fran Bow ( a video game I obsessed over during my little “holiday”, let’s call it this from now on!). I don’t remember which character said it but I’m pretty sure it came from the journal that she found somewhere Idk. I think it’s really fitting with this post and well, off I go fixing myself up!

I don’t need to hide from pain anymore because it’s part of me.

Love is everywhere and in everything.

I enjoy crying.

I enjoy laughing.

I enjoy being alive.

Until next post, don’t lose yourself and keep looking for the light. It’s always there. Even the tiniest spark is enough to keep you going. There’s always light, somewhere, look around, in someone, in something, in the sky, anywhere, anyone, anything. And if you don’t see any light, then maybe think about opening your eyes? Maybe you don’t see because you’re not looking at it the right way. Or maybe you are the light and it’s hard to see yourself shining as you stand in the dark.

Keep running. ❤

P.S.: I, of course, still haven’t re-organized my blog and the categories are still pretty messy. But I’ll get to it eventually, don’t worry! And also, the little walk I had in the “park” that I discovered near where I’m staying was truly refreshing. There were so many ducks and I found two cats that let me pet them and aw, man, I felt really good out there! And I’m planning on going there again, maybe making a point of going every Sunday or so. 😀

worry flood

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None of my worries is the least of my worries.

All my worries are on the top shelf and constantly flooding my mind.

I’m replaying everything in my head all the time.

From the tiniest detail, like that time I knocked over two plates of colored beads in kindergarten and had to stay during recess to clean up my mess.

To really heavier ones, like that time I made my mother cry.

In fact, when I say “tiniest detail”, I don’t mean it from my point of view. I mean it from most people’s, I guess. For me, all of these are as big as the other though I can make the difference between bigger ones.

They’re replaying in my mind most of the day. All the while I’m busy worrying about now and what’s next; what once was is always there, what happened haunts me all day long.

Sometimes not and I feel lightweight and I feel like I can go on and be reckless again and feel fine.

But then it comes again, at any random fucking hour of the day and it doesn’t stop. Not until I’ve collapsed under the weight of how my teacher called me out for daydreaming back when I was 7.

Everything sticks with me forever and I can’t just scrap it like a gum on the sole of my shoe. The darkness haunts me forever. I have all these creepy bugs with their small legs carefully buried in my scalp and there doesn’t go a day they aren’t hungry for some brain goo.

And when my mind obsesses over something good, how does that turn out, you ask? Well, it eventually figures out a way to darken the scene and have the prettiest flowers smell like rotten meat.

I hope I’m not my only friend because it seems I don’t want me to be happy. And fighting against myself sometimes just seem so pointless. I’m all I have, so why should I wage war upon me?

This endless worry flood has me sailing away on a self-destructive path. And I go with the flow.

All this dead water that infiltrates my lungs has such a bittersweet taste that I can’t even begin to think of letting go of.

This familiar taste, I could fight till the end.

But maybe I don’t want to win.

Maybe I just want it to flood me, just like that, and drown.

Because there is nothing sweeter than defeat and surrender to the storm.


I tried to work on Uncage’s next chapter tonight but I just couldn’t do it. My mind was too busy. And, look what I managed to vomit onto my keyboard. Isn’t it wonderful? Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts. Images. Words.

Color Me Undead: a poem and a drawing

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COLOR ME UNDEAD

Sunshine is a false friend.

The weather never stays the same inside this hurricane:

Sky’s grey, then blue, then white;

There’s sun and then it rains.

I just never know when it’s safe to rest.

I gotta keep on the move

Always, even when I lose my groove.

Paint me, pain,

For I am a canvas

And I’ve been blank for too long now.

The ground isn’t very stable.

I keep falling in these muddy puddles.

They take away my colors; leave me numb.

Mean cycle; recycle…

Mom, rock me back to my cradle.

Sunshine is a false friend,

The storm it never ends!

Paint me, pain.

Paint me again,

Over and over again.

Give me a face.

Give me hard times.

And, please, leave a trace.

Weather forecast calls for the peeling of my soul.

Layer by layer I melt away

Under the merciless waves

Of this self-perpetuated hell.

Acid rains devour my core.

I barely bleed as I lose my skin.

Colorless; colorblind; who am I?

Paint me, pain.

Help me be again.

Show me I’m alive,

Not living in vain!

Show me who I am!

Show me that I can

Be more than a stain…

There’s still blood in these veins

And strength in these legs.

And next time,

When it rains,

Come back faster to me, friend,

And paint me sane & chained!

Color me undead;

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The drawing was fueled by Halfnoise’s EP The Velvet Face and Paramore’s latest song(which I’m so asdfghjkl about). So I was really feeling that colorful but mournful vibe. Which was already pretty strong with my post Pain is a color and I’m a rainbowAnd the first draft of the poem was fueled by the drawing. And then the real thing was fueled by the storm and insomnia and also eating a green apple past midnight.

It’s 4AM, I’ll try to catch some Zs now. There’s so much I need to say; I’ll try to write a post and let it out, maybe this week, maybe later, I don’t even know anymore.

Until next post, don’t eat apples after midnight and get some sleep ❤

The Day I Forgot My Book (aka “yesterday”)

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I have this book. It’s always with me, in my bag, no matter where I go. I’ve had it for a few months now but never actually started reading until a few weeks ago! And I still go very slowly about it. I’m barely four stories in. It is a book that I have always wanted to read, so you’d have expected me to devour it as soon as I’d lay my hands on it (like I did Red Dragon), but I didn’t. I barely touch it and when I do, I only take the smallest, slowest sips. But it is always with me.

In my bag. On my desk. On the chair covered in clothes near my bed. In my hands. Between my teeth. On the shelf. On the floor. I always have it around even though I’m usually not reading it. It’s just here. Like I need it to be.

Usually, when I pick it up and actually read a few words is when I’m outside waiting for something, sitting somewhere, and probably panicking inside and trying to keep it together. Or just trying to make time fly faster! (But I’m trying to bring back the habit of reading before bedtime, because it’s a healthy habit and it feels very good also!) And that’s about it. I’ve had it for over seven months now!

I never realized how important this book was to me until Monday afternoon when my “doctor” called me and told me it seemed I had forgotten my book on his desk. I had forgotten my book. I left my book on his desk. I forgot my book…

I was suddenly assaulted by a wave of “HOW?”s and got very anxious. How could I have forgotten it? I always check behind me when I leave somewhere to make sure I didn’t forget anything. But…

I remember putting on the desk when I arrived. And, then… I didn’t pick it back up when I left. I took my jacket and back on the chair and I just left. I didn’t look back to make sure I had everything with me. I just walked out the door and left. But, how?? Right? Well, I was already having a hard time getting through that day, I was exhausted and the talk we had just left me slightly weakened I guess. So I forgot.

I forgot my book! The worst part is that I didn’t even realize it! I was so caught up in thoughts and blurriness. And then I was thinking about my painting and… Never once did I realize that something was missing until that phone call. But once I did, I just collapsed. I didn’t know it before, but this book actually contributes greatly to my well being by just being around. And without it, my room seemed emptier and I just felt lost and terribly anxious.

When was I going to have enough courage to go back there and get it back? Was I going to wait until my next appointment in 600 years? How was I supposed to live in that room devoid of guitar and now missing that tiny little bundle of dead trees and ink? I was terribly sad. Sadder than this day had already made me.

And well, I sat down and let it sink in. And I realized.

This book was my thing to look forward to, in a way. I had all these stories which I yearned to read with me, all the time, and the possibility to read any at any time. I knew that I could always turn to my book if I ever felt anxious in the bus, alone in my room, or just feeling like everything outside and inside of me was assaulting me. I hold all these stories greatly to my heart even though I have never read most of them because I don’t doubt their perfection, and I could just pick one and drown in it anytime I’d feel like it. It was always there and that felt good knowing it.

Also, I guess, always having it around had some sense of familiarity to it. I was used to seeing it, touching it, feeling its weight in my backpack. And that’s very important to me. Things that are constant, that don’t change, that are always with me. They keep me grounded and make me feel safe and not like a blurry bubble of darkness floating away.

And there’s that ritual of always putting it in my backpack, then taking it back out once I’m home and putting it on my desk and eventually moving it on my bed. (But never reading it! haha) That’s also important. It gives me the tiniest sense of purpose and like I’m in control.

All in all, it was an anxiety reliever and a best friend. And having it snatched from my shaky hands made it clear how it was a vital part of my days and contributed greatly to my getting through the waves. Well, I forgot it, so it was all my fault. Nobody snatched it from me. My carelessness did… I still can’t believe it that I just forgot about it like that. I took it for granted that’s what I did.

Anyways, worry not! Today, with the great help of my best friend who stayed on the phone with me all afternoon, I went and got my baby back. The doctor had left it in an envelop with the lady at the front desk and I honestly thought that having it back would involve more conversation but it didn’t. Phew! I was so happy to have it in my hands again. Ripped the silly envelop off and threw it away (in a TRASH CAN!, of course, because I care about Mother Earth ❤ ) and there it was…

Back in my hands again, my long lost friend.

I had a horrible night last night. I worried about what I could do before sleeping now that the book I never read wasn’t here for me to read anymore? Nothing felt right. Then, I had the weirdest dreams because I’m so tired lately and mostly dream about food, conversations I am going to have the next day, taking out the trash, the a7x concert, or just doing the dishes. Life without this book is unbearable.

As soon as I got back home, I did what one does when being reunited with such a good friend after sooooooo long and I took a thousand pictures with my laptop. I had a photoshoot with my book to celebrate our reunion. I love it so much! 😀

Quite an adventure, huh?! Got my book back and, luckily, it hasn’t lost any of its comforting powers and the safety waves are still a-flowin’! Now, I can go outside again and not feel so naked. 😛

This books provides solid ground to stand on when my vision blurs and I start to quake. I need it around, just to look at it and acknowledge it as a fixed point that keeps me chained to reality.

And I also love knowing that this compact little thing holds so many worlds inside of it, each filled with different shades of gloom and strange characters, and knowing that I can just dive in, no matter where I am, to escape whatever it is I’m running from. The stories are really great, so well-written and I just love everything about this book (and more). 100% would recommend to anyone that hasn’t read it or just remind those that have to maybe go back and re-read it because it’s such a piece of art!

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Reunited at last… ❤