they say the eyes of the ocean
are made of alabaster,
and every time you pick up a piece of it,
the oceans claim a piece of your soul,
something they will know
that no one else will.
but it was never clear to me who “they” were anyway.
otherwise I would wonder at the consequences
of carving alabaster, or breaking it.
maybe all great things
leave their eyes elsewhere
no longer in need of them,
but unwilling to destroy them,
still attached to the distractions they provide.
it would be nice to know the ocean had a soul,
that tidal waves
might be rage, or sorrow.
i would find comfort sometimes,
knowing the ocean too must scream.
maybe doldrums would be depression,
and maelstroms; anxiety attacks.
the eye of a storm could easily be bipolar.
there would be great use in codifying each subsection of the DSM-V
through marine events.
the oceans are greatly governed by the moon,
the most distal of all stimuli.
perhaps this changes things.
no, probably not.
I just want to take a moment here again to thank you all for following my work and growth throughout this journey.
As a creative person and an artist, I get depressed and overwhelmed a lot of the time. I get so many ideas in my head, sticking there like velcro, and poking the inside of my brain until I let them out.
I'm constantly drowning in thoughts and ideas. I try to doggy paddle across the waves, but sometimes they pull me under and I can't breathe for a while.
My art helps heal me, but it also destroys me. I take one step forward, two steps back. And some days, I look at everything I've created and I cry. I cry because I hate it. I cry because I love it so much that I hate it. And that might not make sense to you, but it's how I feel.
Creating and writing helps to get all of the bad thoughts out. But every so often, I just feel lost. Like I'm floating here without purpose, just dangling in the wind and being tangled deeper and deeper into myself.
Some days, I want to call it quits. I want to throw it all away, and say goodbye to everything I've created. Some days I crave to be "normal" and accepted among the majority.
I'm sorry for rambling on, but allow me to come to my point:
You guys keep me going. Your support and interest in my work makes me feel like I have a reason to be here. It gives me back my sense of purpose. And I'm so thankful that so many wonderful people have been following my work. It's an honor to create for you, truly.
I need positivity like a sunflower needs the sun
So what do I do when I'm given none?
I'm fed poison and breathe out joy
Bringing life through photosynthesis
Using my outward appearance to make people smile
But I'm cut at the stem
To be given to some much more special than I
And slowly start to rot
I'm given as a gift
Once I wither away and my fresh scent is gone
They throw me away and keep moving on
No one thinks about the sunflowers
Until they're gone.
I don't particularly like to put labels on myself, but I'm depressed.
I've been depressed for a long time,
even before I lost my dad.
His suicide just made it that much harder to deal with.
I hide from the world
to hide from myself.
I'm not happy with who I am,
but every time I try to change I seem to fail.
And when I wake up every day I think,
"Today will be different.
Everything will be okay."
But I know I'm only joking with myself.
I have so much creativity in my mind,
it drowns me.
The thoughts coat the outside of my mind like an oil spill,
and I feel like I can never get it clean.
I'm hideous inside,
and I'd give up every ounce of creativity
just so I could feel clear.
I'm heavy with sadness
managing to keep it in check well enough
to live among the rest of you,
but feeling like I'm dying
a little inside every day.
An avalanche of memories pile at my feet,
but I can't bear the cold
My fireplace is old
and it won't keep me warm no'mo
The tears are freezing to my face,
and now I can't wipe them away
The lights are going out, and the sun won't show its shine
I can't see a **** thing
I can't breathe my goodbyes
Something just ain't right
It sits on the tip of my tongue,
rubbing it raw
but refuses to ever budge from its place
I know I'm wacky,
but can't you see this grin across my face?
It should be clear,
a sparkling glimmer
Shooting straight into your eyes
with my shining, ****** shimmer
You won't think of me today
You won't remember me tomorrow
But one day, when you least expect it
I'll pop into your mind
And you'll think,
"Where has the time gone?"
i guess it was
****** of me
to hand you a
not to carve
my lungs out
you told me you would be there for me.
daylight speaks through somber teeth,
detrimental deeds hang on its back.
carve the words stuck on your cheek,
let winter crush all that we once had.
wasted, losing time.
I lost what was mine.
I’m sorry I let it smother our light.
I’m sorry I didn’t put up a fight.
my limbs hang bare, like trees;
I’ve given you all of me.
like the cold, you are life’s demise.
maybe I should have stayed inside.
not the something prose can cure,
nor any amount of wine you pour
can help endure the pain of his evanescent face,
always being the one you're looking for
I met a boy, and I'm going to look for him in all the love I have from here on. Please, send your remorse.