Growing apart, yet still connected
The fact that I’m moving to college really soon could be why I’m really noticing it, but everyone is going away and living their own lives. Their things are all in boxes and planning longterm, like years in the future. “Don’t worry guys, we’ll talk on facebook and I’ll see you in about 4 years.” It’s a little weird to move further away from the people you considered to be close too in your life. All of us are growing apart.
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Late night blogs are always the best and most dramatic and angsty. I don’t know what it is about the dark that reveals so much in your heart. Whatever it is, I tend to write really well when I can’t get an idea out of my head. Here it is that’s kept me up.
It’s a weird feeling. Like when you lie down for too long and when you get up, you’re vision goes black and you head turns light. You feel as if you weigh so much that you are about to fall over. That feeling of falling over without much of an ability of being able to stop it, that is similar to this feeling. My heart feels heavy and I feel like there is something inexplicably wrong with me. I didn’t realize this feeling for a while though.
I didn’t realize how much it hurt and what it meant. I didn’t know what it was. Now I do. It was me realizing that what I thought I had turn out to really be nothing. My head had processed it in the back of my mind and I, like an idiot, finally realized it. I was searching so hard for a label for what I thought I had.
I tried on many, donning them like outfits, articles of clothing or jewelry that could easily be removed, but I realized that they just covered up what it really was. It was makeup. It is a mask that I had created for myself yet again but this time instead of tricking others to hide what I wanted I tricked myself.
I tricked myself, what an awful feeling. I hid something from myself, it was shrouded in darkness and now it feels like that mask was ripped off like duck tape over a mouth. I can hear it screaming at me. I feel betrayed but it was my own fault for creating something I thought was real while in fact it was something so small.
That doesn’t make it insignificant or any less important but like a childish ignorant girl, I took that and blew it out of proportion in my mind. How could I be so cruel to myself? I hurt myself and I am dealing with it.
There is no label for what I had because it was Nothing. I thought it could be something but I distorted it so much. I can’t blame it because it was always Nothing. Absolutely and completely Nothing. Nothing is happening and Nothing happened. I misunderstood and kept running with it. What an idiot I am. How stupid was I that I actually . . . . . . .
This is the part where I sigh and cheer myself up. I need to become hopeful because that is all I have going for me. I see the world and am cynical but I must be hopeful. I can’t spiral out of control.
I am strong.
I realized it and will learn. I won’t stop hoping but I also won’t fall for my own allusions no matter how convincing they are.
For now the label for what I have is Nothing but it has potential. Maybe now isn’t the best time seeing what’s ahead, but it still is possible.
Anything is possible.
I won’t miss label things. I won’t be upset anymore because I understand what I have.
Nothing is actually a seed in my hand. It is nothing at the moment, it can’t give shade and it’s not helpful, it doesn’t give me fruit nor is particularly useful but it has potential. It can grow and it could become something amazing.
I have to believe and hope. Hope is the very best thing to have when you have Nothing.
When you have Nothing beneath you all you have to do is simply look up and there is still potential right above you.
I never realized that cheering up people can be a task. It’s hard and well to be honest I’m not used to it. I have to say though, no matter how hard it can be sometimes, cheering up a friend is the very best feeling.
Some how that small moment of time be it a small comment in a second or an hour-long walk, its precious. That time is important because you shared it with someone.
I hadn’t ever really participated actively in cheering people up. Truthfully I was a little arrogant about it. I used to think that people get sad but that they have to get over it on their own. While I still think that’s true, I realize how much easier that is to accomplish with a friend there to help set you on the right track. I was a little ignorant to how other people cheered me up when I was down and now I am so much more grateful because I know how hard it must have been to deal with a depressed me. Even though that didn’t happen a lot and I am not particularly close to many people, that small group put a smile on my face when I was down.
I kinda want to go back in the past and kick my little butt for thinking things like that but I haven’t invented a time machine yet so in time. . . .
Maybe it’s alright now. I think it is because I learned and let go of some of that pride I held on to so tightly before.
So yeah, maybe I’m not used to being random and saying embarrassing things like the guy who is now my personal banker that I met yesterday was extra cute.
Haha, but sharing that with a friend to make her laugh at my weirdness and keep her mind off the bad?
I think it’s worth it.
We are all changing. Its like when our hair grows out. You never really notice how long it’s getting untill you look a photo months ago or when you see someone after a long time. Those little changes seem like nothing at the moment of their existence but later on you realize that you’re a different person. Completely covered by that new and changing form you just recently just brushed on.
It’s the layers you gather over the years, or the leaves you grow over time like a plant. How much is covering us right now? Where is the 5-year-old we were years ago? I can’t ever remember that well anymore. Memories have faded and the world is changing slowly. So slowly that we don’t even notice.
How can we?
We are so focused. So intent of do things in a certain way at a certain time that we can’t seem to look around all the time and notice the changes. With our blinders on we can hardly see when to turn and like a horse on a race track we are simply told to run and keep running by someone above us that we can’t even physically see. Just like that horse we feel the presence of that force driving us to keep doing what we must.
Change is constant in life. We are growing and dying at the same time. How odd. We grow mentally and even physically but at the same time we are expiring. Dying slowly. Our cells falling from our skin our organs getting older. We are forever aging and yet . . . growing.
High School is over for me as well as for all my classmates. We are all moving on. Growing up, moving away. I will leave soon too. And another change will occur for me.
It seems that we only notice the changes when a large one happens. Moving or graduating or going to college. Whatever the event, we never notice the changes untill we look in a mirror one day or pack our material items we collected over the years.
I am changing and I can see it. My hair is different and I will be starting a new life soon. Soon I’ll be very different. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be different.
Maybe I’ll know when my hair gets longer. I think it already has grown so much since I got it cut.
Maybe it grew since I last checked.
Maybe you grew too.
Escher was the one I said influenced me during the interview at the contest.
So am I an artist? I would think that putting together a portfolio would qualify that answer as a positive. I do create art and thus that makes me an artist.
Aren’t artist supposed to use their right side of their brain more though? Because I use my left. When I draw something I think of it in mathematical terms or views of spacial reasoning. What looks better where and such is my thought process.
I mean I do think of the meaning of what I’m drawing but I do it as symbols. In my recent contest (today) I entered a piece that was called Shattered Mask. It was a self-portrait of myself (With long hair at the time) in pencil but it was shattered like that of a mirror. The thing was though that I had my hands on my face, fingers around my eyes for example.
The reasoning was that in society we wear a mask that hides who we really are to the world. What I wanted to show was that the masking we put on ourselves can break and shatter like a mirror and you can see glimpses of what is underneath.
Pretty deep stuff considering that it is all in one picture I drew for an assignment.
Does this make me an artist though? By definition I would say that I qualify but then anyone can be an artist.
Being an artist isn’t that special. It is the quality of what you create that is. Maybe I feel more like an artist because of the quality of my work has risen from what it was before.
Sometimes when I go back and read something that I have written before (ie. My first post to this blog) and compare it to something a VERY long time ago, I realize how much I have grown as a writer. Now on that, calling my self a writer is not really true or an utter lie. I write but that can’t necessarily mean I am a writer.
Maybe I question what really makes me an artist because I realize that I have been thinking myself as one for a while now.
But for the life of me I can’t really remember when.
