I need to be creative too.
Dreaming of you, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, and how we fade. It blows my mind a little how easy it is to want to be creative and yet not be. To want to make something of yourself and make nothing. Today i tried to do something with myself and i don't even know if it'll work. But i tried. This blog is about trying to do something with my brain, but i feel like it's a waste of time. It looks so pretty...
It's unfair, right? Why is this world so pretty and i can't make anything of it? I'd like to make something of it...it's my fault, and it hurts. here i am whining about it...
24.4.11
21.4.11
All you need is sleep
Another odd morning where i'm awake super early and don't know why and can't fall back asleep. Feeling pretty average today, no high or low, so i figured i'd write just to be normal for once. I always start thinking that and end up writing something insane, but i have high hopes for today.
It looks beautiful out.
Thunder is kind of annoying.
I woke up with the urge to cut out letters from magazine paper saying "I'm Wide Awake It's Morning" and the urge was so strong i couldn't fall back asleep. Now i'm doing it and afraid the cutting sound will wake vance up. Though i guess typing is louder. Hmm.
Vance woke up.
OK. Apparently when i'm not super sad or happy i have nothing to say, really. Except that i do love life, and i'm happy to not be terribly lonely.
Back to cutting out letters.
It looks beautiful out.
Thunder is kind of annoying.
I woke up with the urge to cut out letters from magazine paper saying "I'm Wide Awake It's Morning" and the urge was so strong i couldn't fall back asleep. Now i'm doing it and afraid the cutting sound will wake vance up. Though i guess typing is louder. Hmm.
Vance woke up.
OK. Apparently when i'm not super sad or happy i have nothing to say, really. Except that i do love life, and i'm happy to not be terribly lonely.
Back to cutting out letters.
11.4.11
I only felt sane when i was afraid
End of a good weekend and feeling contemplative. On the train ride home from Lancaster i couldn't even see out the window long because it was dark but i kept thinking about the world out there and how i felt about it and about my life and the people in it. I find that i'm focusing more on myself and less on the things outside of me that i used to obsess over--less on the boys, the bad luck, the things that kept me afraid of trying. I'm thinking more now about the good in me and what i'm capable of doing and what i can get out of this lovely, lovely world.
And maybe it was the four beers we had on the trip, but i was just feeling so good and warm and full of life. I felt so capable, so ready and dying to do so many things, and just sort of aware of a remote sadness about the years and years i let my depression stop me from trying to make anything more of myself and my time. I know it was a process to get to where i am now...a super long process that took so much and so much out of me and that could only be gone about in the way i went about it. So that makes me less sad and more just relieved, that i'm finally able to get this point, to which i never hoped i'd get. I just feel lucky and hopeful. Relieved.
I do, however, feel so terribly sad and regretful when i think about a world i love this much and then about how ready, so many times, i was to give it up. More than ready...desperate, dying to give it up. It's a terrifying feeling to think that--that one simple move in a moment of weakness and despair is all it takes to take away any chance you had, just takes it right out of your hands and ends it there and then.
I know what it felt like to be that sad, and i know it wasn't sheer weakness but desperation and fear and dread. It was about not having the hope that things will ever be better, because they never have gotten better so far, about feeling a pain so intense that you can't imagine anything that could make it go away, and wondering what's the purpose of living a life filled with such pain and not knowing why and feeling guilty about hating yourself and your life so much when it could theoretically be so much worse. I know what it's like to be plagued by those thoughts and to think, when it's really, really bad, that you just want to end it, you beg yourself to be strong enough to do it, you hate yourself for being so weak...more times than i'd like to admit i've been closer than i'd like to admit to hurting myself, to trying to end everything, and i'm so ashamed and saddened by this awareness that it's difficult to even think about it.
Later, when you feel good, and you see the world for what it is, it's almost as painful as it is in the bad times, to think about what you wanted to give up. I don't hate myself for that, but i pity myself, the Old Lisa, for what she went through and how sad and alone and lost she felt for her whole fucking life. Ah. I'm so sad about what i missed, lost, gave up on, never tried...it's like the most painful kicker at the end of this ordeal (an end that, i know, is only beginning to be realized), the terror of what i almost was able to do so many times.
On that train, i looked out the window and was overwhelmed by the beauty of our world. I looked within myself and was overjoyed at what i found, at the person i'm finding myself to be, of the future i see there. I looked back out the window and fought back a wave of bitter sadness about the past and how wonderful of a world i wanted so badly to give up forever. How dared i? How dared such a person exist? How did such a wonderful world make such a terrified and lonely creature, and, oh my god, so many of us? I don't understand it. I don't understand any of it.
And maybe it was the four beers we had on the trip, but i was just feeling so good and warm and full of life. I felt so capable, so ready and dying to do so many things, and just sort of aware of a remote sadness about the years and years i let my depression stop me from trying to make anything more of myself and my time. I know it was a process to get to where i am now...a super long process that took so much and so much out of me and that could only be gone about in the way i went about it. So that makes me less sad and more just relieved, that i'm finally able to get this point, to which i never hoped i'd get. I just feel lucky and hopeful. Relieved.
I do, however, feel so terribly sad and regretful when i think about a world i love this much and then about how ready, so many times, i was to give it up. More than ready...desperate, dying to give it up. It's a terrifying feeling to think that--that one simple move in a moment of weakness and despair is all it takes to take away any chance you had, just takes it right out of your hands and ends it there and then.
I know what it felt like to be that sad, and i know it wasn't sheer weakness but desperation and fear and dread. It was about not having the hope that things will ever be better, because they never have gotten better so far, about feeling a pain so intense that you can't imagine anything that could make it go away, and wondering what's the purpose of living a life filled with such pain and not knowing why and feeling guilty about hating yourself and your life so much when it could theoretically be so much worse. I know what it's like to be plagued by those thoughts and to think, when it's really, really bad, that you just want to end it, you beg yourself to be strong enough to do it, you hate yourself for being so weak...more times than i'd like to admit i've been closer than i'd like to admit to hurting myself, to trying to end everything, and i'm so ashamed and saddened by this awareness that it's difficult to even think about it.
Later, when you feel good, and you see the world for what it is, it's almost as painful as it is in the bad times, to think about what you wanted to give up. I don't hate myself for that, but i pity myself, the Old Lisa, for what she went through and how sad and alone and lost she felt for her whole fucking life. Ah. I'm so sad about what i missed, lost, gave up on, never tried...it's like the most painful kicker at the end of this ordeal (an end that, i know, is only beginning to be realized), the terror of what i almost was able to do so many times.
On that train, i looked out the window and was overwhelmed by the beauty of our world. I looked within myself and was overjoyed at what i found, at the person i'm finding myself to be, of the future i see there. I looked back out the window and fought back a wave of bitter sadness about the past and how wonderful of a world i wanted so badly to give up forever. How dared i? How dared such a person exist? How did such a wonderful world make such a terrified and lonely creature, and, oh my god, so many of us? I don't understand it. I don't understand any of it.
4.4.11
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