I want to restore my vanity with rest

I want to restore my vanity

I can’t restore it by holding onto things outside

I hold onto things outside because my sadness and grieving has me attached to all that glitters

I want the world to be beautiful because inside is not beautiful or something like that.

My passion explodes in art one week, writing another week, music another week, coding another week.

Each week something different. My anger drives me in every direction

Feels like being pulled apart form the inside

Why can’t I be at peace?

Why am I angry?

I’m not the change in this world that I wish others would make

I wish others (my mom) would learn to see their power

I wish others (Briar) would learn to find the love in others

I wish others (my dad) would learn to to be free

I wish others (my roommate) would learn he must be proud of yesterday tomorrow.

Who else do I wish would learn something?

I’m deciding out of resistance

I resist being poor

I resist everything

I resist learning to find the love in others

I wish she would let me be free

Free in expression and free in my vision

Vision being what I see when I look at the world

I wish I could be free in those ways

I resist learning to be free

If I was free I’d be afraid that I’d get lost

If I was free I’d be afraid I’d make decisions for no money

If I was free I’m afraid that I’d rest too much

I’d slack off

I’d focus on the wrong thing

I have no faith that I will be fine

I have no faith in who I am

I have no faith in my own power

And so I see the power, freedom, and brining out of love that others lack.

Or I see that lack in others, even though they don’t lack that.

It’s just my reflection.

I’m scared of the people in the streets

Not because they’re dangerous to me

Because I don’t think they are

I’m afraid I see myself in them

I see the addict and the downfall

I don’t see love out there with them

I don’t see love in them

I don’t see love in me

Maybe the only way to heal is to stop cutting the wound

That’s just a shot in the dark I have no clue

Does that feel right to me?

I can hear a man outside my apartment screaming right now

Probably on some hard ass drug

I hear the voice in my own head telling me to resist and push and struggle

And go to places I don’t desire to go to.

My head feels heavy. It always feels heavy.

I don’t think my way to heal is to stop cutting the wound

I think I need to feel the wound more

I think I need to experience the terror of my ways more

I don’t think I’ll truly ever come out of it if I don’t

I don’t think I’ll ever truly understand the story if I’m not present with my urge to cause the wound

And the feeling of relief in doing so

Whatever your wound is, maybe you’re not over it yet

Maybe you haven’t felt the good in the wound yet

If you don’t feel the good, you can’t feel the bad.

And you can’t change.

Transformation makes me feel good, like I’m learning to do something new

Like I’m learning to be something new

My roommate told me my power is that I bring the real out of people

My realness, my lack of a mask allows others to take their mask off

Anxious students would play Magic the Gathering with us in the morning because I somehow made them feel welcome to relax

I never made Briar feel that because I never took my mask off around her

Because what’s under my mask is me, no intentions of success, just me

And that’s dark, that’s ugly, that’s no good

I don’t like it and others won’t too

Can I really ascend in life without a mask to try and make others believe I’m some cool shit

Sometimes I take off my mask and others shame me

But I realize now those are the people who wear their masks the most

I see just in this moment of writing this how she and her and him all stab at me in the ways they’re uncomfortable with themselves.

That doesn’t need to hurt me, I can learn to be happy in who I am

I can learn to not hide who I am

I can learn to be who I am

I bet I could learn that

I bet there’s power in that

I bet there’s freedom in that

I bet there’s love of others in that

That’s where the peace is

In that love of others and understanding

Unapologetically myself

Others may look down on me others may see their wounds in me and offer me the advice they need for themselves

I’d have to believe that I’m above that then

But I’ve been told if I’m viewing it from a perspective of being an elitist or that I’m better or on a different level then I’ve done something wrong.

I’ve missed the learning

I am on the same level as everybody else and there is nothing I can ever do to get above that level

There is nothing anyone can ever do to get to a level higher than the other humans

No amount of wealth, understanding, or wisdom, will bring us to a level higher than those who are present.

When I compare, I am not present, I’m looking at the leaderboard in my brain

To see who’s higher than someone else

Usually I would use weed in order to get higher than everyone else and thus I was higher than everyone else in the room

It’s hard to give up something that almost works

But it doesn’t work

It almost works

It’s so close

But what does work is the surrender I feel in those moment

What does work is the immersion I feel in those moments

What does work is pain I feel when I know what I’m doing to myself and I can choose peace and change that

I hope a day comes when I can say I am independent of my dad and my mom

I hope I also am independent from the belief there is another in this world

Independent from the beliefs that hold me back from peace and transformation

I’ve been told my heart always knows what to do

That we always know what to do

We just try not to do it

I wonder what my heart is telling me now

I wonder if I listen long enough I can hear it beat

I wonder if it’s in there

Okay, so what’s it saying?

Let’s see

Vomit the words onto paper and see why I’m angry

I guess I’d have to read back my writing to do that, but my writing feels amateur

But maybe that’s what’s good about it

Maybe that’s the part of the process I’m in and I should not desire to be better or resist being bad

That I just am what I’m doing and I can’t really learn more about it

Writing is the process of editing my thoughts

Great project work including writing is editing

I wonder if I’ll ever get back to editing this work

I now know people read this writing which is weird

It makes it hard to write

I want to put on a mask

I want to put on that mask that makes it so easy to try and guess what you’re thinking

But I’m wrong

I’m always wrong

I’m most proud of my work when unfiltered

When unfettered by my bullshit beliefs

That’s when I feel my power and I know I’m doing what my heart tells me to do

When I’m embarrassed of what I’m saying

When I’m worried about what others might think

I had a cavern where no one read my work

Then I started sending it out to people

But maybe learning to channel that feeling and thought is a way to unlock freedom and power

It feels like practice to be who I truly want to be

I don’t have writers block anymore

There is no block when I put my finger in my throat and throw up

It just comes right out

It’s like a diarrhea all over the internet

I miss the past

I miss the past a lot

I miss the people

I miss Briar

I miss Puff

I miss feeling like I’m at home

I’m homesick now

I’m far from home

I’m trying to grow as a person away from home

Trying to find my independence the best way my advisors tell me how

But maybe my independence comes from my decision making and no one else’s

That’s when I’ll be able to tell for sure I’m free

I’m going to start a new blog post about some more light-hearted shit

Because I’ve been going deep for a while on this garbage.