blog, pt deux

This started out as a reply to an earlier comment, but it went three paragraphs long, so I figured… might as well make it another post. My blog and I’ll do what I want!!! >_<

It’s so sad, to lose the joy in writing for yourself. I used to ONLY write for myself. Though not because I was self-conscious, amazingly enough, but because it was something that was just mine.

My family wasn’t very intellectual or creative back then(my little brother has become an amazing artist), and part of the reason was there wasn’t that much I wanted to read at our little bitty library, and my allowance couldn’t keep up with the voraciousness of my reading habits. I used to make worlds that I loved, or fanfic when a show caught me in its pull.

It was the only thing I was confident about, I knew I was good and I wrote what made me happy and I didn’t care one whit if anyone else ever read it. I almost hate him for it, blaming him for making me share that when it ended up tainted. Or maybe I hate myself for being foolish, or letting it become tainted. It was my way to self-soothe, which is way better than cutting or promiscuity (though I have made stupid and reckless decisions about relationships) or drugs, though I would get pretty caught up, not eating or sleeping, while I was writing. My cousin Steven told me earlier that it was amazing that I never became an addict, and I wanted to disagree with him even if I couldn’t explain why I felt he was wrong, and now it finally occurs to me:

I am addicted to my fantasy worlds. My characters and stories and playing pretend, knowing it isn’t real, but something in the back of my head would say, “Wouldn’t it be amazing if just by creating these stories, in another reality they become real?”

Which is weird and I know it’s untrue, but I still liked to imagine that. On that note, yes, I have been playing Bioshock Infinite. But no, this is the way I’ve always thought. It’s kind of amazing to play, and knowing that this sort of thing actually comes to others’ minds.

What if there really were infinite other worlds, each one just a choice away from this one? Heads… or tails? Alive or dead? Left or right?

In my worst dissociative moments, I have convinced myself that I’m in the wrong reality. That something traumatic or just BIG has knocked me sideways and I slipped through some crack and I am living the wrong life. Because so much seems so WRONG.

Like, Nathan is not the man I married. John is not the man I thought I knew. My mom is not the woman she was when I was little… no one is, really.

I haven’t figured out yet if they’ve just changed that much or if I have been blind to everyone this whole time. I don’t know which hurts more: they’ve decayed that much, or that I was so stupid, or even that I’m trapped in the wrong life. They’re all horrible thoughts if you look at them. I’d like a fourth choice now please. Or at the very least, a way back to my real world.

I’ve also decided that I am going to link a song at the end of my blogs (and I may go retcon and edit my earlier ones and add a song to them… yep. I’m going to do that) because you can know so much about what someone is feeling by the songs in their head. So, without further ado- a song about the decaying nature of relationships by a woman with a beautiful voice and soul. The Bed Song by Amanda Palmer


Creative Standstill

I am an idea person. I have these plans and ideas and thoughts and if I could do everything I think of, I would have so much accomplished. But thinking and doing are two separate things, and I am pretty sure the creative connection has shorted out.

Like, I want to do AMVs. I hear songs and I think, “This would be great paired with so-and-so,” and I’ll have the song and the video downloaded but when it comes time to put it together I get overwhelmed and just stop.

Or with writing. I haven’t written in over a year. A lot of my block is because I made someone real my muse, everything I wrote I wanted him to read, and now he won’t read anything, will never read anything I’ve written again, and it freezes me.

I miss having that connection. I miss having someone to talk to and create with. We had so many stories we would write together. And now that’s gone.

I need to find a way to write for myself again. But I don’t know how. I don’t know what to do. I’m blocked.

I knew it was unhealthy to place that on his shoulders. I didn’t expect to lose him, not to this degree. Where I no longer exist. Which is also unhealthy to think. It’s like on that movie, The Holiday, when Arthur looks at Kate Winslet’s character and says, ” Iris, in the movies we have leading ladies and we have the best friend. You, I can tell, are a leading lady, but for some reason you are behaving like the best friend.”

I’ve given myself a bit part in my own life and I don’t know how to change that. I’ve spent so long worrying about how others see me and wanting to be everything to everyone (yay Everclear) and finally feeling like no one because I’ve made poor relationship choices and it ends, badly, always badly.

On another note, my cousin introduced me to Sia. The song “Elastic Heart”, you know, the one that small-minded idiots say is pedophilic, but it’s really totally not. The first time I heard the lyrics, I broke down. Completely. Like the wailing, fetal-position, raw-throat breakdown. The video is an adult male and young girl performing interpretive dance as the two warring sides of Sia’s personality, the reason (Shia Lebouf) and the emotion (Maddie Ziegler).

I think it is amazing and emotional and heartbreaking. But if you want to know how it feels to e struggling to pull yourself out of the dark, all you have to do is hear this song, but first you have to know the lyrics, so I’m leaving them here for you.

Elastic Heart

And another one bites the dust
Oh why can I not conquer love?
And I might have thought that we were one
Wanted to fight this war without weapons

And I wanted it, I wanted it bad
But there were so many red flags
Now another one bites the dust
Yeah, let’s be clear, I’ll trust no one

You did not break me
I’m still fighting for peace

Well, I’ve got thick skin and an elastic heart,
But your blade—it might be too sharp
I’m like a rubber band until you pull too hard,
Yeah, I may snap and I move fast
But you won’t see me fall apart
‘Cause I’ve got an elastic heart

I’ve got an elastic heart
Yeah, I’ve got an elastic heart

And I will stay up through the night
Let’s be clear, won’t close my eyes
And I know that I can survive
I’ll walk through fire to save my life

And I want it, I want my life so bad
I’m doing everything I can
Then another one bites the dust
It’s hard to lose a chosen one

You did not break me
(you did not break me, no)
I’m still fighting for peace

Well, I’ve got thick skin and an elastic heart,
But your blade—it might be too sharp
I’m like a rubber band until you pull too hard,
Yeah, I may snap and I move fast
But you won’t see me fall apart
‘Cause I’ve got an elastic heart

I’ve got an elastic heart