What I Wanted.
I feel so alone lately, I think.
What has happened to me? I used to be so full of life. So entertaining. And funny. And wonderful.
I dunno. I don't do things anymore. I don't go to shows. I don't travel. I barely hang out with my friends. I'm barely pursuing anything.
All I do is paint, read, and study. And I mean, I guess this is what I wanted. I wanted solitude. Where I could be with myself. Where I could be with my art. Where I could be in love with my work.
I used to be in love with my life. My friends, my music scene, my family, my land, and my art. Now I feel like all I have is my art. I don't relate to anything anymore.
I barely listen to music anymore. I haven't looked up new music in over six months.
I'm not connecting. In fact I'm disconnecting.
I don't want to date anyone, I never do, and rarely have wanted it. Now I feel like I want it, just to see if it will fill this new void. I just want anything to make me feel okay again.
I'm so happy usually. I don't know what's wrong with me. And I wish I felt okay enough to tell my friends, to ask them for help. I can help them so easily, but there's something in myself, maybe even my culture, that wont let me ask for help. I can't need anyone else. But I do. I need someone to just talk to me, to be there. But I don't want just one, I want more then one person to help me. Fucking SOS.
I just want to go back to Los Angeles.
If I were to call myself on what's wrong, I'd replace the name Mark with Talia. Thanks RENT.
"Mark has got his work, they say Mark lives for his work, and Mark's in love with his work. Mark hides in his work."
"From what?"
"From facing your failure, facing your loneliness, facing the fact you live a lie. Yes, you live a lie. Tell you why. You're always preaching not to be numb, when that's how you thrive. You pretend to create and observe when you really detach from feeling alive."
"Perhaps it's because I'm the one of us to survive."
I wish I were brave.
What has happened to me? I used to be so full of life. So entertaining. And funny. And wonderful.
I dunno. I don't do things anymore. I don't go to shows. I don't travel. I barely hang out with my friends. I'm barely pursuing anything.
All I do is paint, read, and study. And I mean, I guess this is what I wanted. I wanted solitude. Where I could be with myself. Where I could be with my art. Where I could be in love with my work.
I used to be in love with my life. My friends, my music scene, my family, my land, and my art. Now I feel like all I have is my art. I don't relate to anything anymore.
I barely listen to music anymore. I haven't looked up new music in over six months.
I'm not connecting. In fact I'm disconnecting.
I don't want to date anyone, I never do, and rarely have wanted it. Now I feel like I want it, just to see if it will fill this new void. I just want anything to make me feel okay again.
I'm so happy usually. I don't know what's wrong with me. And I wish I felt okay enough to tell my friends, to ask them for help. I can help them so easily, but there's something in myself, maybe even my culture, that wont let me ask for help. I can't need anyone else. But I do. I need someone to just talk to me, to be there. But I don't want just one, I want more then one person to help me. Fucking SOS.
I just want to go back to Los Angeles.
If I were to call myself on what's wrong, I'd replace the name Mark with Talia. Thanks RENT.
"Mark has got his work, they say Mark lives for his work, and Mark's in love with his work. Mark hides in his work."
"From what?"
"From facing your failure, facing your loneliness, facing the fact you live a lie. Yes, you live a lie. Tell you why. You're always preaching not to be numb, when that's how you thrive. You pretend to create and observe when you really detach from feeling alive."
"Perhaps it's because I'm the one of us to survive."
I wish I were brave.