How often do we sit and question what we are feeling? I think my problems stem from doing it too often. The product is overwhelming- and I find questioning if other people are feeling similar things just as isolating. It might be from the fear that they are not feeling this…that it makes me alone….and just as quick as that thought processes I deem myself pretentious to “other” myself.

The ache of feeling unique, and hatred for wanting to be so makes me a polluted form of energy.

The most frustrating part of trying to carry this blog is wanting to have you read it with the inflection, parlance, and pause that I give while writing it.

I feel that time is rushing past in a manner that leaves me frozen in slow motion. I can not seem to catch a break in the rhythm to jump in…and after feeling this for so long it is easier to just sit and watch.

“All I did was fail today”… Oh Wonder- All we do.

^ That lyric seems applicable.

This is what it looks like when I can not pull my mind together enough to trap one idea onto “paper”. -Can not remember the last time I actually used paper.

I have decided to not move back to the east coast. Someplace that I called home for damn near a decade can wash away with every part of that life….I don’t want to possess that timeline in my life at all. I will miss the river, hikes, craft beer, coffee, and the parkway drives. I will miss the dog park for Bella- nothing more.

West- California? Cliché? Perhaps, but fuck it. I need queer…I NEED BIG….I need to feel lost at all times surrounded by people that I will never know. It is so much easier to pretend that at any moment they could change you.

I have such an overwhelming and demanding need to create something…but fuck it right-because you have to let yourself become pretentious to create anything good. I love art. I love music. I love creators. BUT- everybody who is such must tell themselves at some point that what they have made/sang/painted/written(note irony)- is important enough for others to seek. I know this point of view both holds me back and pisses me off. Blame my ex. I think she was honestly mad I was a better writer than her…because she said this to me at a time when I started to share my creations.  “I don’t think ‘I‘ could be so selfish as to believe anyone should have to read what I write…so I don’t share it” …..uh thanks for the decade of emotional stagnation.

“And California never felt like home to me” – Halsey -Drive.

If I make something good enough will you care…will you notice…will you love me….will you pay me….can you hide me inside.