Becoming Me

Ive missed this quite a lot. Just writing what my mind maps out for me, because there is no other way to do it. I've ben blocking my creative side by pushing it too far for what seems like a lifetime. Imagine being a creative person who needs their words more than air, but find themselves with nothing to say or think because they've simply been suffocating their thoughts with anxiety and terrifying nightmares? That's been me for the past 10 months. I've barely been getting by. And then, in the early days of the summer I for some reason found my way back for unknown reasons. I loved it for the few days it lasted. And then before I had time to truly feel it, it was gone. But I fought through it, got another glimpse of it, clung to it, and again pushed it too far. The story of my life really. But now. Now comes that time of year again where everything gets darker, I become isolated, closed off, confused and unable to leave my bed to do simple human things. And for some reason this is when my creativity hits an all time high. Maybe because I am no longer out living life. I am lying in a bed overcome by depression and unreasonable anxiety. Or maybe because I need something to pull me through another cold lonely hopeless winter where I let everything fall apart, so I can pick back up the pieces once the snow melts away.

It's dark now when I wake up. The air bites my skin, my heart beats a little faster, my thoughts becomes a weightless, I get a little more reckless, a bit more alive In my mind yet dead on the outside, and somehow everything turns more crystal clear, making it easier to to breathe but harder to live. And I stand alone. Because when I try to explain it, try to drag myself out my warm safe haven, I snap. Maybe this isn't something one can do anything about? Maybe there is no bigger meaning to falling down the rabbit hole to wonderland? Maybe the ice cold water in my lungs that drowns out any form of life, is a blessing disguised as a curse? Or maybe, just maybe you still don't allow anyone behind your walls.

And as I try my hardest but still fail, to keep both feet planted on the ground, to keep my head out of the clouds, and my heart within my chest, life kind of just happens without any substance to it. Cause I'm flying. Out of reach, out of love, laughs, smiles and tears. But I'm feeling more, seeing more, experiencing more, and discovering more than anytime before.

I might seem dead to world around me, I might seem closed down, but behind the shell I am more open and more alive than any yesterday or tomorrow.