What’s happening to me?

I feel very unsettled. At war with various parts of myself. Conflicted between artistic harmony and torchered inspiration.

Attempting to detach…

::deep breaths::

Why is it anytime I take back control in my head some parts of me must suffer?

The most important parts as far as I’m concerned. For if I am unable to create I might as well just not be…

I can’t exist without creation.

But somehow the romantic side of my brain is extremely connected to how and what I put out to the universe.

It’s not fucking fair!

I finally come to some healthy…realistic resolutions…about my “delusional” expectations of other beings….

And as a result…this?


::stares at ceiling::

I need to get out of bed.

“Let her back in.”


“It’s your funeral.”

And who said this had anything to do with any “her”?

“I’m in your head remember. You can lie to them. But I know your truths.”

You know too much.

I can create without….feeling that way…


My roommate has company. I can hear them laughing out in the living room. If I was polite I would get up and say hi and smile or something human like that. But I’m not connected to earth at the moment. So humanistic behavior is far from my thoughts.

“Get out of your head.”

I’m sick.

“You are. It’s such a wonderful thing.”

No. I mean I’m really sick.



Yeah. But I’ll live.


Being sick is the last thing I need right now while out of town. I shoot on Sat, and it would be really nice if I wasn’t hacking and sneezing all over everyone.


I wish I was invincible.


In regards to every element. Including love.

“Love is not an element.”

Whatever. You know what I mean.

“You need it.”

I need art.

“It’s the same thing to you.”

It’s really too bad I can’t keep you quiet during these. You’re seriously going to make people think I’m crazy.

“But you are. So?”


He has a point.

My cryptic, melancholy, voice on my left has a point. And yes, there’s one on my right…only she rarely speaks much. Unfortunately for me. I prefer her insight.

That or I prefer her kinder approach. But like I said. She’s rarely around.

“Let her back in.”

No, it’s pathetic. And I don’t do pathetic. So why should the idea of…


Be any exception.

I’ll find inspiration in another form. One that doesn’t make me feel so…




“That’s not how it is.”

It’s nothing else either.

“How can you be rejected by something you’ve never asked for?”

You can sense the things that don’t want to be…had…by you.

You can sense the people that want you close, and the ones that just want you around…sometimes, but nothing even remotely near “close” to them. Why stress over those people when there are people who DO want me close.

“You analyze too much.”

Maybe I do.

I think I need to get up. This is long. And I’ve declined so many phone calls while trying to type it. It will probably go to the dungeon and never get posted. But we’ll see how I feel later.

Or wait. No feeling.

That seems to be the problem.

6 responses to “expel

  1. This…. is…. brilliant…. xoxo

  2. Amazing!

  3. She’s a lucky girl whoever she is. You’re a catch. I hope she realizes what she could have before it’s too late. I would.

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