Here's a messy series of thoughts I wrote down while sitting alone on a bus.
Recently I find myself crying for no reason. I'm not quite here, not quite there. Transitioning from the comfortable silence of an apartment, a dog, and a series of repetitive actions to a crazy, fucked up whirlwind. I suppose this is what your 20s look like.
I feel like the bulb in a long string of Christmas lights that went out early. I'm there, part of a beautiful piece, but I am not lit up. There's a blurry line of lights but I am black.
I find myself stumbling around in the dark. I wish this was as artistic as it sounds, but I am not stumbling drunk. I am painfully sober. Painfully aware of every silent moment, every awkward pause, every empty conversation going nowhere.
I've been talking to a boy who is really nice to me. I drank too much wine recently. He probably thinks I think too much. I think I think too much. I think too much. I think.
I'm trying to love myself like the songs tell me to. I am trying to understand why I feel this way... why anyone feels this way. Wondering if the demons in your head ever give it a fucking rest. Pouring my heart out to myself, and even I'm sick of listening to me.
Sometimes I am romanticized by my own photos. I am an artist in everything I do; all I want is to share my vision for fashion through editorial photography. I want to make art. Maybe I'm succeeding, I don't fucking know. I think we all wish we could live our lives through film photos and song lyrics sometimes. I wish I could drink coffee, and write poetry, and roll around in bed all day, half naked, talking to a lover about how there's no one like us, while he takes candid polaroids of my 6am laugh, but that shit isn't real life. The artistic dream is just that, a dream. And it makes for a good Wes Anderson movie, but those dreams really fuck with my attachment to reality.
You know those movie scenes where the protagonist stands in the center of the scene, frozen, and the whole world zooms by around them? That's how I feel sometimes. I am stagnant. I want to zoom by with them, but they all go without me. I keep thinking about drinking coffee across from this boy and looking at his eyes. They are beautiful. I miss smoking cigarettes with my coffee and feeling okay. I think too much.
I never used to feel this uncertain. Or maybe I did, but I was able to hide behind a comfortable relationship. I feel naked. The uncertainty didn't used to choke me like this. The voices never used to be this loud. I never want to be a burden.