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[wereallheretofartaround]

a conversation with myself

she told me that she has no clue where she’s going, no clue if it’s in the right direction, that she doesn’t have an inkling of what the right direction even is. 

i asked her, 

“where do you want to go?” 

she told me anywhere that won’t make her feel the way she does now. she told me she hates the questioning, the uncertainty, the unshakable feeling that she has nothing to offer. she tells me that she has a hard time thinking about herself, that she runs in circles in her mind trying to figure out what she wants, what she should be doing, what the hell is even going on. she builds walls that are impossible to break down. walls that keep her trapped in situations, mindsets, places. walls that suffocate and push her into spaces that make it impossible to move. 

“is this what it feels like?” 

she asks, 

“is this what it’s like to grow up?”  

“is it always this uncomfortable? does it always feel like this? will i ever get a grip on myself?”

she asks me questions i don't have the answer to. questions i, myself, struggle with. questions that i push down just as quickly as they come up. questions i promise myself i’ll get to later. “i’ll think about it when i have time, when i can really focus on the answer.” i say. of course it never comes- the right time i mean. it’s either filled with mindless actions or the promise of an even better and more appropriate time to think about it. still, though i know better, i give her this advice:

“i’m sure one day you’ll feel more comfortable, like you have a place in this world- like you fit” i tell her.

“when?” 

and i’ve never heard so much desperation in a question before. 

[wereallheretofartaround]

ugh

it never ends. it never seems less or more than it should. it takes up its space with integrity and purpose. it doesn’t boast. it’s so completely there, so engulfed with kindness and raw emotion that is impossible to recreate. impossible to write about. its the echoing of whispers and the embossed laughters. everything it is is almost never enough, but somehow makes to be everything. thoughts so big they don't fit on notebooks or canvases or the sky. there's not enough of anything to make it fit correctly. always crooked, always falling short, but in a way that engulfs you in its beauty. will i ever find the right words to say? it falls somewhere between the fear of letting go and the intrinsic feeling to hold on as tight as you can. 

its frustrating knowing that you’re living in a moment that you can never recreate; with words, with actions, with people.

[wereallheretofartaround]

“The point being, despite our need to simplify and generalize absolutely everyone and everything in this life, humans are intrinsically impossible to simplify. We are never just good or just bad. We are mosaics of our worst selves and our best selves, our deepest secrets and our favorite stories to tell at a dinner party, existing somewhere between our well-lit profile photo and our drivers license shot. We are all a mixture of our selfishness and generosity, loyalty and self-preservation, pragmatism and impulsiveness.”

[wereallheretofartaround]

can i simultaneously feel microscopic and colossal at the same time? my thinking progresses and all i want to do is scream. but is it because im pleased or embarrassed that its taken me so long to get here? i transform, alter, adjust, adapt millions of time a day but fixate on whether its captivating enough to share. maybe it’s because most demand answers without ever asking questions. ive never been good at answering.

[wereallheretofartaround]

10/27/2020

i worry because i anticipate the day that i have absolutely no control over anything. nothing scares me more than living a life that i don't think is absolutely engulfed in beauty. i am on the constant and uncomfortable cusp of the next stage of life- nothing will last. that used to scare the shit out of me. so much so that i would spend hours dwelling on words that had long been expired. sometimes i still find myself thinking of the past- analyzing it. being completely enthralled by the raw state of it. knowing that i’m here and there, simultaneously. can i be two places at once? 

[wereallheretofartaround]

09/21/2020

maybe i like the silence better because, in my mind, i can talk for them. the conversations are always calculated, always within my boundaries. i can control my emotions beautifully. nothing they say can hurt me, it can never catch me in a vulnerable state. i know they’re unaware how close we are in my daydreams. is that why it hurts when they actually speak? which version of them am i with? which version do i know? 

[wereallheretofartaround]

i am a mosaic of over-romanticized, tender thoughts and the constant hesitation to speak of them.

[wereallheretofartaround]

i'm trying to explain

i am an intense listener. to be so enthralled in other’s experiences and emotions that the only way to truly honor them is to try my hardest to understand. don't we all crave to be understood?  

most demand answers without ever having asked questions. i've never been good at answering. 

[wereallheretofartaround]

what should i believe? 

[wereallheretofartaround]

And yet another for my Minimalist Art Journal! :)

“So it goes.” -Kurt Vonnegut Breathe in. Breathe Out.

Book page with gesso scraped over it, paper I made (in a Japanese papermaking class at MCBA), vinyl letters.

[wereallheretofartaround]

Do you realize that all great literature is all about what a bummer it is to be a human being? Isn’t it such a relief to have somebody say that?

Kurt Vonnegut (via quotemadness)

[wereallheretofartaround]

The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possible can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.

Kurt Vonnegut, A Man Without a Country (via quotespile)

[wereallheretofartaround]

I sympathise with everybody, damn it, and see why they are the way they are.

— Kurt Vonnegut

[wereallheretofartaround]

im bad at beginnings

how to start? is there ever a good way? sometimes i feel that i might explode thinking all the thoughts. then i think that im not even thinking a fraction of the thoughts that i could be thinking. then i think more. crazy, huh? 

I just recently finished a man without a country by kurt vonnegut. i always forget how reading books make me feel. its different than reading captions or listening to those around me or looking at pictures or interpreting my dreams. sometimes i feel like that's all im about nowadays. reading brings me somewhere else. a scary, vulnerable place. a place where i can't hide. i think i may always believe what i read in books and that's why its so overwhelming for me. its completely up for interpretation, but the interpreter is me. it shows me me. see? no where to hide. no one to blame my feelings and interpretations on because no one forced me to read the book. no one forced me to keep going. no one is forcing me to feel what i feel while reading it, to think what i think. its a mirror, and ive always tried to ignore mirrors when im feeling vulnerable. scared what im going to see, you know? will i see me? or will i see something im afraid of? is it the same thing? i would say that im a pretty well rounded person- a happy person. i pride myself in knowing that i am a happy person. but am i? what does that even mean? i have trouble with arbitrary phrases and ideas. its because i think too much, i think. im not very confident with my thoughts for someone who thinks so much. what do i think? i think its okay to change what i think, but that's what scares me. it scares me knowing that im always changing. i will absolutely never get a grip on myself, someone that i am always with, a dear friend, a soulmate- how will i ever get a grip on anything else? a lot to consider. but what might i consider? shall i consider ways to get a grip on other things? or deal with the constant and perpetual discomfort of knowing that i am not in control. ever. never was. never will be. its a bit beautiful knowing that things are just there. they are just happening. im at a constant battle with myself knowing that things are out of my control, being okay with it, still living, maybe living carelessly vs knowing things are out of my control but living in a way where i can try and control some things. for example: the earth is dying. i know this. there's almost nothing i can do other than reduce the things that are adding to it in my life. even typing this is adding to it. do i just keep going with how im living because i can't control my contribution as well as other peoples contribution? or do become an activist? will it help? will it help control other people’s actions? i don't know. and the more i start to know things, the more i realize that i just don't know. kurt vonnegut says that people are just good guessers. i found solace in those words, knowing that we are all in a big guessing game; i also found much discomfort. who is to trust? what is right? what is just? we’re all just guessing. i guess that’s okay.

im also bad at endings.