I think my life hit a rough patch while I wasn't looking. I've been using distractions - new people, new things to help me forget. When faced with new, I can put up a pretty good facade at first, but it's when people try to get deeper - they hit a wall and I can't let anything in. Like a cardboard box, emptied and painted for children with imagined doors and windows - but there's nothing inside. People will only wrack their knuckles on pretend doors for so long - sooner or later, if their efforts are unmet they will turn and leave. I want to walk away from myself too, sometimes.I haven't written much lately. I think I'm afraid. I'm trying to apply my thoughts to more organised 'creative endeavours' and am coming up blank. This frustrates me. What if I have said all I have to say? What if there is nothing more? The past has shown me not to push it, it will arrive when it's ready. But that's not fucking good enough - because the real world has deadlines. Dead. Lines. Fine lines... frown lines.. down times.. good byes.
I don't feel like I have anything of my own. No dreams, no belongings. I am suffocating amongst other peoples 'things'.
SB
1 comment:
These are thoughts that sound very hurtful to you. Can they be proved at all? You're not always going to feel this way honey. This will not be the way you feel for the rest of your life.
xx
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