What happens when you become a stranger to yourself? When everything you say and do seems like it belongs to someone who just... isn't you? Feelings that betray the person you believed yourself to be for so long, suddenly you're scraping the bottom of the empty peanut butter jar for anything to fill you out and take you back to before --
Before when?
I can't tell if my daily persona is just this awful, extreme caricature I've created for myself as a costume to cover all the holes. I am exaggerated, I am theatric - he asks, "How does so much personality fit into such a small person?" Everything is a stage, I made it that way long before I knew what I was doing.
I hate to be left alone. I start writing sad, sad things. Desperate, lost things, and I hate all of it. My light is so much brighter when it has (you) to bounce off of.
Keep your fingers moving only for yourself, darling; all of your notes and letters for anyone else will bury you.
And don't say that's what you've wanted all along.
[The both of you can just fade to black.]
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The key to creativity is always the comeback. For those who suffer dark thoughts and morose days- fight back with creativity. We write, we act, we sing, we paint, we take the dark things and make art. This is the mandate, this is the way, the balance to facing what we are. The light comes with form--with consistency no matter the feelings. Faith is so often without feeling, its an act, a deliberate, unfeeling act, its the one thing worth believing, and once a gift reveals itself, there is only the truth or death.
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