beautiful misery, my manifesto of a sombre life.
Sleepless nights are over, I am now an early bird and words don't fall into well-built nests, it seems.
I no longer hunt for words in the night, don't turn my head to see behind. Do tell, how do I restrain my hunger for flesh, how do I attain my unstable, chaotic writing with a stable life?
Not sleeping is a self-taught discipline waiting to destroy your life.Insomnia, in the sense of imagining creatures waiting to kill when your eyes close, a heart beating so loud, it might be someone breaking in, breath so fast and shallow. I am running before they catch me.
I claim to have manifested my prior unwell-being. Constantly enabling the cruelty of ownerless thoughts to form outwards, to crawl out of my skin like children left in baskets in front of my door, I will never not claim them.
Obvious beauty does not settle me. What to do with the apparent beauty of a sunny day, with chirping birds and all. To claim a sunny day beautiful... but to see the glory in a stormy night, pretentious and misunderstood. Oh, do look at me, I am miserable, but you don't even see it all, you cannot understand this.
ONLY writing about your sadness will feel like a release and inherently make you more familiar, handshakes turn into hugs, into the water you drink.
Art is not always supposed to devastate you. The accidental spiritful drawing, the careless laughter make me feel uneasy. Am I capable after all? It scares me to be content and full of hope, an unstable lifestyle compared to the stable blue before.
constantly enabling my sadness.
You feel what you eat, you are who you spend your time with, you think what you read and watch, you manifest what you write.
and none of the above.
it has to be carelessly cared for:
- Eating as a necessity to feed and as an act of self love, but also detached from how you are feeling, not the cure or poison.
- Spending time with people to form connections and to energize, but also as a mirror for who you are and want to be, to learn.
- Writing to be creative and process, BUT ALSO TO MANIFEST WHAT AND HOW YOU ARE. THOUGHTS HAVE POWER, WORDS ARE REALITY.
YOU ARE CONSTANTLY WRITING YOUR OWN BELIEF SYSTEM!
beautiful. loved reading this.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you enjoyed it!
DeleteI deeply enjoyed this piece. Initially, I was concerned - as much for you as for myself. Your relationship with your sorrow, your previous unwell-being, is so intimate (obviously, I’m rolling my eyes at myself rereading this. It is YOUR sorrow after all ofc you’d be intimate with it). I couldn’t help but find parallels in my own experiences. In particular when you stated that you would ‘never not claim them,’ in reference to your thoughts as children left in baskets at your door, I was left feeling devastated. Such a forgiving way to refer to them. To associate them with the innocence of a child placed in a difficult position. You could be inciting war within yourself, directing destruction towards your very being as many including myself have been known to and yet you are able to hold the internal conflict so beautifully. Still, I appreciate that you acknowledged that shifting from the ‘blue’ and embracing the joys of life can just as challenging and can feel equally destabilising. And I agree, art isn’t supposed to devastate you, it’s easy to fall into the trap of validating your experience as an artist with your own suffering. Artists have a terrible reputation in that sense. I have nothing profound or even particularly helpful to say (Cleary) other than same dude but also I’m glad you’re finding yourself in a more reflective space, that you can recognise these sorts of things, that you’re not letting your experiences shame or stifle you. Naturally I’m looking forward to reading more from you
ReplyDelete