I’m not sure if you could tell by last night’s post, but I was about 6 or so sheets to the wind when I wrote that. Some of my most angsty stuff come’s out when I’m drinking, so I apologize for acting like a teenager, internet.
Despite my best efforts I am a very emotional person. I was always accused of being “too emotional” when I was younger so as an adult I equated having feelings as a bad thing. Because of this, I was prone to outburst amidst periods of numbness. I’m not that way anymore after a pretty recent realization that if I am going to experience the world, I will do it openly. I’ve found that this includes being incredibly vulnerable and as a result, I’m in some level of emotional spot at any given moment. I’m too in my head, or too in my heart, or maybe not enough of where I should be wherever that is. Lately in terms of feelings, I feel like I’ve been swimming in a sea of negative ones looking for a metaphorical boat of positivity.
I was told to create positive ones. One of the big ways I do this is by writing, and by writing I have to go to that perpetual part of my emotions that really, really hurts. I have to hurt to get the high? I reckon this is why many writers are alcoholics.
Sometimes I drink to forget I went there, only to wake up with a hangover and evidence glaring at me in point 12 Times New Roman.
I was talking to my friend last night and he asked me if I knew how emotionally exhausting all this was going to be, would I have made the move. Without hesitation I replied, “Absolutely.”
This is way better than being stagnant, even if I’m exhausted. I’m in the middle of a period where I’m exorcising myself of all my ghosts, slowly freeing myself of all the fantasy, learning to see myself as I am and trying to map out how to get where I want to go. I feel like this odd type of rebirth that I need more time to really figure out how to describe.
I need to find better ways to handle everything that’s going on instead of getting drunk and posting poetry online.