I’ve been moving on lately. Not in the way one would imagine. I’ve become raw and uncut in my creativity. I’m exposing myself to the world with photos of what i see, thing I model in a virtual space, things i may draw by hand and music. Oh no I’m still not happy. But I’ve decided to keep pretending.
I”m doing light work. Work as in making amends to old flames if I possibly can. Maybe an offer of friendship or two. I’m learning to forgive my parents even though they still bait trap and subtly belittle for effect, and myself because I keep making mistakes. Alot of them. And the ones I used to make.
My memory is acting up on me still. The past is in the present. I’m physically throwing punches at it in the quiet of my room. Wrestling it away because it won’t stop bothering me. Teeth gritted, heart pounding, and anger brewing. Many have said what’s done is done the past is past. Oh I do agree. It would help if my brain could seriously comprehend this because I even say this aloud (enough for me to hear) to give it less power. No doing it says to me. The memory is playing tricks in the short term. Nearly putting food in the closet, turning off the sprinkler when I just turned it on only to be told I actually turned it off the moment I went inside. And I don’t remember a thing. I must be getting worse.
And I’ve made some plans for the future. Or I tried to. That farm I planned to off myself on years down the line won’t be attainable. New Zealand’s land prices are too high. Understandable. Sad though, The land does look wonderful and lush in some areas. Trying to find a piece of job to make myself look normal. That money won’t buy that land. I don’t have 5mill. Eventually deciding that when I’m on my own I’ll purchase a firearm. Personal protection first and foremost. Everything is much to unpredictable, especially the recent scare I had. Second most also for later down that line.
I’m trying to friend an old crush of mine. That’s all she was back in high school. One year older than me. I actually really wanted to get to know her. She was mysterious in her own way and I always curious what kind of goals she had for herself, interests that sort of thing. She seemed ambitious and I was always genuinely intrigued. I messed it up because I didn’t know how to express how I felt. So I wrote her a poem, drew her a picture, said hello every now and then. She eventually asked me why I never just told her. I told her the truth. Then i messed up again and I had decided it was best not to talk with her. Years later I feel sorted in that one sense enough just for a platonic relationship. The rest is if she accepts and then I can talk with her like I always wished I could. If it doesn’t work I can’t blame myself because I actually gave a real wholehearted effort.
So I’m looking to mend that. But in the mean time I’m just distracting myself with millions of things and projects because I’m tired of believing, wanting, and even falling in love. I’ll settle for friendships as they are easier to cultivate for me. I’m trying to be myself to the outside world and to my closest friends. I love them and in this I’d be going out with a bang in later years.
People will get to see something raw and unedited for a limited time. I am tired of being ashamed of that. The limited time…Because that too…is apart of me.