Restless.
3:18 am.
I don't like having my legs uncovered. I hate wearing shorts, because I hate to watch my thigh flatten and expand three sizes times its normal size. I'm not happy with the way I look. I'm disproportionate and pale and I never feel comfortable in my own skin. These are problems I've had since I was a little kid, problems I should probably work on.
Instead, I drink a lot of water.
It's 2:46 in the morning and I'm trying on dresses. I pluck them from the place where they sit, collecting dust day after day, and I pull them up over my short, weird body. I pull an oversized sweater off of my messy dresser and haphazardly throw it over my shoulders, over the white dress that bears a striking and eerie resemblance to a wedding dress. It hangs too far below my knee and is slightly bigger than I'd like it to be but it's nice and a different change of pace. I look sweet. I'm not used to looking sweet.
I've been killing time all night. I've been cutting pictures out of magazines, destroying page after page with scissors, and pouring glue onto canvases. I'm making collages. I'm destroying to recreate. It's kind of poetic.
I think that people like me, people who feel like they are never in control of any aspect of their life, people who, day in and day out, have trouble making decisions and feel like they're going slightly more insane each day, are the most creative people. I think it's because you can channel that chaotic energy into creativity. See, there I go with the poetics again.
Honestly, I feel like if I can create things, I can harbor some sort of control. If I change my hair color constantly and pierce myself and buy clothes that I like, I'm in control. I can control my appearance, and I can control the way I write and act and speak and paint. I can't, however, control the things that matter, like time and space and weather and love. I can't control any of that shit. I can't control my thoughts or my emotions, or the way I feel when it's just been too much.
My chest hurts. My abdomen hurts. I can't stop listening to songs that remind me of someone else. I want a cigarette. It's too hot. I'm constantly hungry.
I can't sleep. I'm restless. My train of thought has been derailed. I can't close my eyes. They open up right away.
Sigh.
Instead, I drink a lot of water.
It's 2:46 in the morning and I'm trying on dresses. I pluck them from the place where they sit, collecting dust day after day, and I pull them up over my short, weird body. I pull an oversized sweater off of my messy dresser and haphazardly throw it over my shoulders, over the white dress that bears a striking and eerie resemblance to a wedding dress. It hangs too far below my knee and is slightly bigger than I'd like it to be but it's nice and a different change of pace. I look sweet. I'm not used to looking sweet.
I've been killing time all night. I've been cutting pictures out of magazines, destroying page after page with scissors, and pouring glue onto canvases. I'm making collages. I'm destroying to recreate. It's kind of poetic.
I think that people like me, people who feel like they are never in control of any aspect of their life, people who, day in and day out, have trouble making decisions and feel like they're going slightly more insane each day, are the most creative people. I think it's because you can channel that chaotic energy into creativity. See, there I go with the poetics again.
Honestly, I feel like if I can create things, I can harbor some sort of control. If I change my hair color constantly and pierce myself and buy clothes that I like, I'm in control. I can control my appearance, and I can control the way I write and act and speak and paint. I can't, however, control the things that matter, like time and space and weather and love. I can't control any of that shit. I can't control my thoughts or my emotions, or the way I feel when it's just been too much.
My chest hurts. My abdomen hurts. I can't stop listening to songs that remind me of someone else. I want a cigarette. It's too hot. I'm constantly hungry.
I can't sleep. I'm restless. My train of thought has been derailed. I can't close my eyes. They open up right away.
Sigh.