dents-in-the-wall

[dents-in-the-wall]

i'm demotivated. I feel powerless. and for the most part, i am. i have no control over the house i live in. i can't even clear out my room (which is partially a storage space for my father) because my own mother has some kind of emotional attachment to everything and won't let me throw out like half of it, despite the fact that from my perspective (the important one here since this shit's mine) it's just that random thing that's been sitting on my shelf since god-knows when. with that knowledge in the back of my head i can't reasonably throw out anything for fear of backlash. what's even worse? my grandfather was a hoarder. my father was a hoarder. i am trying so desperately hard to not follow in their footsteps that even a cluttered table makes me start thinking negatively. i feel like so much of my life is in a strangle-hold due to still being a minor. i so desperately crave that freedom and control but i fear that once i'm out there i'll be just as incompetent.

so much of what i attempt to do is scrutnized and micromanaged, albeit unknowingly by the micromanager, that if i do anything some part of me thinks they'll end up going 'oh no you're doing it wrong, here let me show you the entire process'.

i don't want these consequences imposed by an overseer. i want the consequences that come with the action itself, whether that be throwing out an important document or using the wrong setting on the vacuum.

[dents-in-the-wall]

oh god am I doing too much am I not trying enough am I being clingy am I being too distant am I misreading signals am I overthinking this entire thing or am I not thinking enough about it ghagh

[dents-in-the-wall]

And no, I’m not blaming all of it on the counseling. But it sure as hell isn’t innocent in this matter.

Guess who finally discovered why it’s so hard for me to express emotion. As a kid, I was sent to school counselors to learn how to ‘manage my emotions’, which culminated in bottling every last bit of it up, good and bad. People keep asking why I’m always so quiet? That’s only the crushing weight of almost two decades of shelved and repressed feelings of anger, sadness and all the other things one could consider disruptive. Fuck you, American Education System.

[dents-in-the-wall]

I also shut down whenever some normally senseless object or task brings me the good chemicals. Run around in a frenzy cleaning and organizing while listening to fast music? Time to lie in bed and ponder over what brand of freak I am. I can’t just ENJOY things.

I draw in my free time. Or at least, I try to. It’s become less a want and more an obligation, like if I can’t draw one silly little thing a day I’m falling behind. When I do I just can’t stop giving myself crap about it. I did it great last time, why can’t I do it now? God, this color choice is shit! It looks too much like [artstyle of game i was once interested in but grew to despise], why can’t I just DO BETTER!? It just has to be this monumental piece, expanding on what I know. They can’t face the front or side, linear angles are too easy to draw! You can’t leave the character headless with hidden hands, that’s cheap! I just can’t do it. I keep bashing my head into the wall, praying for a differently shaped dent, but it never happens! You know where the dents are? My skull! I am destroying myself because I need to have some kind of skill or I’m a failure! And at the same time, it all feels like I’m making excuses for my lack of effort. If I just put my mind to it, I can do it! But I can’t put my mind to it. Or maybe I can, and I’m just being a whiny bitch about it.

The dent. Never. Changes.

Guess who finally discovered why it’s so hard for me to express emotion. As a kid, I was sent to school counselors to learn how to ‘manage my emotions’, which culminated in bottling every last bit of it up, good and bad. People keep asking why I’m always so quiet? That’s only the crushing weight of almost two decades of shelved and repressed feelings of anger, sadness and all the other things one could consider disruptive. Fuck you, American Education System.

[dents-in-the-wall]

Guess who finally discovered why it’s so hard for me to express emotion. As a kid, I was sent to school counselors to learn how to ‘manage my emotions’, which culminated in bottling every last bit of it up, good and bad. People keep asking why I’m always so quiet? That’s only the crushing weight of almost two decades of shelved and repressed feelings of anger, sadness and all the other things one could consider disruptive. Fuck you, American Education System.