Tag Archives: Feelings

Oh, Hello

Hi…

 

How are you?

 

I know… It’s been a while…

 

I haven’t forgotten about you though…

 

I think about you often. Everyday in fact. You are, always, in the back of my mind. My one true affair, my love, my passion, you just wait for me to get over myself and come back to you. You wait, ever so patiently, for that stick to fall out of my ass…

 

It’s a blank computer screen, if you haven’t figured it out, just waiting for me to fill it with words. I have neglected to do so for some time now. I understand your frustration. I feel it as well. Whenever that pity me stick gets stuck up my ass, I find myself constipated with the why me slump followed by the boohoo chaser. Maybe I’m not the only one. Maybe we all go through this… if so, maybe we should start discussing this amongst each other because it feels excruciatingly lonesome when you’re in the thick of it.

 

That all-too-common-but-surprisingly-variant event comes along that makes you realize that everything you believed to be under control is actually flying amok in a hurricane of a shit storm. You suddenly find yourself fumbling for your cool like pepper spray in a dark alley. If you don’t find it, soon, some unsavory stranger might sodomize your feelings and leave them pinned up in their bloodied and bruised state for the world to see. This is the level of shame that we put on our subconscious out of the fear that someone else might get a whiff of our feelings.

 

Was it stressful?

 

Why, yes. Yes it most certainly was.

 

Did you make it to the other side?

 

Actually, I did. Thanks for asking.

 

So, What’s the problem then?

 

 

Nothing, really. I guess that’s the point of any unwelcomed event… to let us know that we can reach the other side if we just continue to move in a forward motion. This “event” wasn’t even anything cataclysmic. It wasn’t even that surprising. It has happened before and I’m sure it will happen again. It wasn’t the “event” that caused my woe but what came afterwards that did.

 

I have taken multiple steps in the recent past to secure a somewhat decent future in the hopes of gaining the magical responsibility of adulthood. (Someone slap me.) I was being a good little grown up. However, when you paint a cow pink and wear it on your head you’re bound to look like an idiot. No, not just an idiot… a fucking idiot. If this blog has taught me anything, it’s that I am the most at peace when I smear my nonsense all up on these computerized pieces of paper.

 

My point is this, I’m twenty nine years old and I still don’t have to slightest clue as to which direction I’m heading in. At the moment, it’s in that direction…

 

Or, maybe, that way…

 

No… that can’t be right…

 

Whichever direction I travel, I’ve come to a comforting conclusion. Yes, we can spend our entire lives trying to figure out who we are but is that really the sole purpose of life? I do not believe so, good sir…or ma’am. I believe that we are who we need to be at different stages in life and when there is nothing left to discover… well, that’s when the life part runs out.

 

So, for the time being, I have removed my pity me stick and now expel backdoor word vomit for your amusement.

 

(Ew)

 

Until my next “event” comes along that makes me question my recent actions, I will be here to stink up the joint with my vapor of unintelligible wisdom.

 

In other words… I’m back, bitches!

 

Goodnight, my loyal few… Until my next spewing session.


Late Night Writing

(A repost after a brief moment of hatred. Being a writer allows me moments of distaste in my own work. Yes, Dad. Maybe you were right.)

 

Step 1: Describe your mood (don’t leave anything out)

 

Honestly, I’m a bit anxious… and I have been for a ridiculously long time with no particular reasoning. It’s followed by a dash of sadness in a pool of exhaustion.

 

Step 2: Describe the motivating factor for said mood

 

The motivating factor in any version of anxiety is fear. Why? Well, if there was nothing to fear then there would not be a need to worry.

 

Step 3: Realization

 

Fear can cause us to do things that we wouldn’t normally do. If you have enough fear in your life it begins to become a normal personality function. Having an overload of fear will eventually erode a normal thought process to cause unrealistic expectations of the worst possible outcome for everyday routines. In other words, you will forget what it means to enjoy the fact that you are alive at this very moment. For a writer, you forget the joy of self-expression.

 

Step 4: Identify the problem

 

I’m too anxious for my own good.

 

Step 5: Identify the solution

 

Stop fucking worrying about every little meaningless thing. (Yes, everything.)

 

Step 6: Utilize your solution

 

Easier said than fucking done…

 

Living with anxiety is like stabbing yourself, over and over again, with tiny needles all over your body. You may never know where the next one will be and it may not even hurt that much but it is the build up to the point of skin contact that is slowly killing you. Anxiety is painful in the subtlest of ways.

 

And the ramifications of trying to ignore it are even worse. So…

 

Step 7: Re-identify the problem and create a personalized solution

 

The real problem is not always the easiest answer. I have anxiety. I have enough anxiety to spare some for profit that would turn me into a billionaire who is riddled with anxiety. (I’m not even sure if that makes sense but that’s the point of anxiety. It never will.) Having anxiety is not my real problem; trying to avoid it is. If I ignore what is a dominating personality trait, I will begin to lose who I really am. The number one reason for unhappiness is denying who we are. Do I declare to the world that I live in a bubble of anxious thoughts so overwhelming that I fear everything and everyone around me including myself? I wouldn’t say so (but I guess I just did). Identifying that I am avoiding my problem is my true problem… I think. The solution is as simple as this: stop fighting myself and allow those moments to wither their way out of my system. I cannot deny them access but I can deny them control.

 

What is my point for writing all of this down? Nothing really. Isn’t this a form of therapy? Not every thought can be a moment of philosophical genius. (I know. This is very unlike me. Isn’t it?) I guess if there was any point it would be that even though I can hide behind the safety of a computer screen to you, there is still a level of humanity in everything I write down. My thoughts can be shared because I allow them to (even though I am anxious about how you perceive them). This does not make them reasonable, factual, or even logical but it does mean that you can comprehend them on some basic level. What you choose to take from it is for you and only you. No one else in the entire world can tell you how to think. It is the one thing that we have that not a single soul out there can expect you to hand over willingly. That’s an amazing thought, isn’t it? The greatest gift that we have is the gift of self-expression. When we offer this out we meet people and are thus given the opportunity to comprehend expression from others. In this instance, we are sharing a moment because we both started with Step 1. This is myself telling myself to write about myself in the hopes of learning about… myself as well as creating an open market for anyone to begin to think. (When you can’t figure out where to begin writing, sometimes it’s good to start with how you feel.) It’s an exercise in expression on my side of the screen and an exercise in comprehension on your side. Telling you I have anxiety is a way of letting you know that, while I chose a digital medium, our time together is humanistic. I am not asking you to agree with anything that I have to say. It is my hope that you begin to realize that, while you stare at an inanimate computer screen, there is a living, breathing human being on the other side. You are only as alone as you allow yourself to be but, sometimes, company cannot be avoided.

 

 

These are not your words; they are mine. You chose to come here…

 

…and I find something beautiful about that. Let’s not waste this.