Barely There

Beads of sweat formed where I didn’t think they could. I guess it was just dreadfully strange to have a heatwave begin in March. I sat in bed at a time of night when I would still be up doing mundane, useless activities, but instead left desperate to catch sleep but inevitably unable to do so in the sitting, stale, dry night air. Unaided by the ceiling fan working so hurriedly above me, streams of streetlight beaming fiercely through the blinds, I stared blankly at the wall, alone again with my thoughts and insecurities, mentally itemizing a to do list that will never lessen in priorities, pondering faces and events of the past and envisioning the next fifty projects that may never happen. With the low industrial hum of the ceiling fan to aid the movement of thoughts in my head, I felt a peace broken by silence and frustrating inner turmoil. The light through the window cast a glow against the world, encroached by the growing darkness that night offered, but as my eyes shifted to this and as my sitting up lent even more to being awake at a time when others seek refuge in their dreams, I sought so desperately to stop the thoughts that sped infinitely through my mind. But so appropriately, I felt I could not be in a better place than my black and white existence in this little room. The drawings on the walls danced as illustrations of my thoughts, at once encouraging me and taunting me to share them with the world. I felt myself begin to cry. Tears that would not be seen by people who used to be so close, tears of excitement for possibility, tears for dread that mistakes have been made. And this is each of my nights.

It is days after the stuffy night in the black and white room. The cool spring air grazes the fresh wound on my face; an annoying little gash over a huge mound that has formed around the bridge of my nose that has manifested from a night of drunken solace and a much needed bout of dancing to ridiculously infectious trance and techno music mid-week. With falling and tripping and wrestling with a friend outside the club to a group of onlookers who subsequently appalauded to our drunken shenanigans, the night, though not fully pieced together in my mind, was absolutely the most fun I’ve had here in a while. One of those “fuck-it” decisions you never really regret. And as a complete departure from the events of that evening, I’ve stowed away here to the park to draw during this fine day and spread out my materials and enjoy the awesomeness of existence again. It worked. I think I may have listened to my ipod playlist at least twice over (I’m gifted with one gig of memory on the pod) before I realized how I’ve missed being lost in a piece of artwork again. How it is such an easy way to forget so many problems at least for a bit. And this is each of my days.

I guess the idea is to breathe again. And it’s happened. A bit harder in a stuffy room or suffocated by a million thoughts and insecurities, but it happened. I mean a new surge of energy has gone back into my day-to-day, stemming from some broken pieces put back together and a new sense of purpose, but a cautious optimism looms over this new energy. Honestly, I feel like the dust has been swept under the rug again and I can’t help it. Reality is such a fragile thing. And when a breath of fresh air seems to restore some of it, provide clarity, justice, calm and peace, I always tend to anticipate something to stir it up again. And I guess this is where my problem is. Being another year older doesn’t help, it just makes things more pressing and urgent. Being home again was nice. Very nice. Seeing friends old and new gave me back something I felt I had lost and longed for for the longest time here in Houston; I was relieved to see that things were still happening but felt a sense of justified abandon when I felt that I was no longer needed there, that I didn’t belong. And I was ok with it. Finally. The job hunt, I feel, is futile. I am now beginning to be fueled by anger and frustration rather than longing, and I feel that this may make me be more vigilant in my attempts to gain a foothold in my career.

Many of nightmares have gone away…but then so have some of my dreams.

However, a new hope has emerged. And all I want to say is one word: Marvel.

Current Songs: Cassie - It It You, Janet - Curtains
Earth-Shattering Revelation #24: Gotta Try.