I just need to see what comes out when it's just me. With no distractions for literally miles.
I'm not sure when this can happen. Perhaps next summer. Not sure. It may not happen until I get my own house built on the 1 acre my papaw left me.
In any event I know we're close. We're close to shit bubbling over the surface. I know there are songs and works I that I need to write. I know they are just below...ready to break that thin film of dew that sits on the water at daybreak.
And yet, part of me wonders how much of that is the new normal.
It's still quite fucked up in my head...I'm not going to lie. It's not so bad that I would consider medication, because let me tell you...there was NO good that came from me being on Anti-Depressants. At least not for 12 damn years. The first six months or so, maybe. Until shit got stabilized all up in my cranium, but certainly after that it was a matter of convenience. It was easier not to feel the pain, so I stayed on the pills. Easier not to have the highs and the lows.
And in the process I lost me.
So...now...I feel like I'm a place where I can find me. And there's a good chance that part of me is kind of a selfish asshole. I'm not going to lie. There are times when I just shut down. If there's something I don't want to do, I just don't. If we were supposed to hang and I have it in my head that I need some 'me time,' then, I'll go for the me time instead of putting on the false front of hanging. Now...I know that sounds messed up. And heres the thing...if we did hang, it would be cool. But there are times when my brain just needs to chill. I need time in a quiet house.
I'm starting to realize that I haven't really had that since high school. There used to be a couple hours after school every day when it was just me in the house. And it was quiet. Or I was playing my music. And that was cool.
As soon as I went away to school, that went away. And I haven't really had it since.
Until now. I am quite honestly anxious for the winter time to pass because I really want to just sit outdoors at the picnic table in my courtyard and write. My place is back far enough from the beaten path that there are elements of it that feel secluded. And yet it's a 5 minute walk from Uptown Westerville.
It really is perfect for me.
And....yeah...I'm not really sure where I was going with this post. I figure part of me is writing it just to make sure that I write something every day. If what I write is shit for days on ends, somewhere in there I expect there to be a nugget of truth that can help you. Whether it's a rant...or rave..or whatever. I know that at a fundamental level...I need to write. I need to chronicle. And a piece of me hopes that what I write will somehow live on so that when I come back in the next lifetime, I'll stumble upon these works and find myself identifying with them. I won't know right away that I've lived this life before. But a part of me will. A part of me will read these words and be able to see every nuance and know this life...this person...and know the heart of the man that is going through these trials and tribulations right now.
And admittedly, my 'trials and tribulations' are quite small compared to the injustices against the universe that are being carried out all over the world as I sit in my sheltered break room in corporate america banging this out. So in the grand scheme, it may not seem like a big deal.
And yet, it's what's on my heart. Its where my thoughts are drawn. It is the center of my tiny universe at the moment. And if my being open and honest about the shit I'm going through can move someone or help someone put their own world in to perspective, or better yet, document their own world...create something. Then I have come one step closer to fulfilling my life's purpose.
And I guess that's why I write...even when I know I'm only rambling, and it's quite likely shite.
Lunch is nearly over. With that I take my leave.