Someone is paying for it

There is a rotting well of pain deepening in my gut, moaning and bubbling within me, eating away at the meat that holds me together. It isn’t something I ate. Maybe it’s something I didn’t eat. Maybe there is something missing from my diet that makes me feel this way. Maybe I need to eat more potatoes or something. Maybe I should find some way to ingest raw Serotonin. Maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe. What good does any amount of babbling about possible solutions do? Let’s focus on the symptoms instead.

Desperation. Pain. Loneliness. Hollowness. Meaninglessness. Frustration. Loss. A sinking weight and a sucking hole am I. It is sudden and it is temporary, but it is not itself meaningless.

Just moments after I began to have a moment of clarity, just moments after I began to just let go and enjoy moving freely to the music, we left the party. I was in touch with freedom and I was pulled away. I think I will recognize it in the future though, and perhaps make my way towards that feeling a little easier. I think I am beginning to have a preference about the music itself.

I write because writing helps channel what I’m feeling out through my fingers and away from me. Like this. I am writing this. Slowly. It is helping. I write the word “Desperation” and suddenly it begins to be something outside me, in front of me, on the screen instead of within me. The things I was desperate for have not been addressed or fulfilled, but the feeling of desperation is not pushing me as hard, fades a little. I describe the aberration boiling within me and it loses power, loses strength, becomes less volatile, becomes more a thing of words. Something you read about, not something real.

Sometimes I post things, and as I write them I know that on some level I am writing to be told that I am wrong, that there is a better way, that I should not be doing or feeling or looking for … whatever. Then when the dissenting voices ring out, it still hurts, I am still offended, even as I realize that I ought not be, that this was what Iw as looking for. I have made this place because it is relatively private, and I don’t want anyone to consider it otherwise. This place is very much about what is very personal to me, what is going on in my mind and my heart and my desire. What strange things are let loose, running around inside me.

I am not unaware that there are people reading this, of course. I am not ignorant of the fact that people will respond to the things I say. I still do not consider this to be anything more than an extended Rambling. A little something to allow me to let out some of the pressure that builds up inside me, even when other outlets fail. My primary audience is myself. I am using this as a sounding board to see what I sound like. What kind of feelings and ideas are coming out of me, I might never know if I didn’t see myself writing them down, didn’t hear myself trying to express them to other people, and often not even then.

Of course, I also want attention. I want to show how easy it is to create something that is compelling and interesting and just draws the reader back for more and more. I want to be able to do with fiction what I am doing here; putting together words with strong emotional content that compel further reading, and tell a story. I want readers to find truth in it.

I feel much calmer, much more relaxed, more able to face the day than I did when I started this. We’ll see how it all goes.

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Author, artist, romantic, insomniac, exorcist, creative visionary, lover, and all-around-crazy-person.