self inflicted pain
appeared suddenly wednesday
chained to my desk with invisible irons of dependency
on a job I hate, with little vision of possible alternatives
I feel I am in an airlock. Vacuous, silent.
Unable to cry for myself, even though I feel on the verge of tears.
I continue to attempt to muddle through. I put myself in this situation. I take responsibility.
I dis my pity-party. Spoiled little brat, why can’t you be happy with a nice boring job? Flashback to being 14, and feeling alone, abandoned, desolate.
Hard as it is, I attempt to focus on my efforts to change my life to better suit my special talents. My attempts to learn construction management with a bureaucratic job are clearly a misadventure, if one that paid my mortgage.
How did I not realize that I exist to love, not to police government contracts. A rather incomplete use of logic. This is what happens when you focus on the prize and not competition. It is always the action that should be its own reward.
The vacuum is deafening in its silence.
My desire for creature comforts like food and shelter is ridiculous. I wonder why I have all these desires to create, to teach through art. Is it as necessary as clean air, clean water, life? Probably nothing is necessary, everything just is what it is.
I am surrounded by beauty, but it offers cursory solace. I pray. I meditate. I jump through hoops. I walk on fire.
I wail to my friends and followers:
some days are so painful all you can do is love the hurt away. I love you all.
Sometimes I attempt to find peace with society, but it is a temporary fix.
I question my friends:
“What was is yesterday that so totally messed with the psyches of me and my friends? Some electro-magnetic radiation disturbance? :-?”
Random useless questioning.
Get over it my child. Cause matters not. Besides, weren’t you the cause?
Wasn’t I the one feeling the pain, just because I’m bored and I feel like my talents are wasted? Seems entirely self-serving.
My self-esteem is such I have a difficult time remembering I am a gift to the world.
I wish I could say my sadness was from guilt that I wasn’t fulfilling my place in this world by sharing my genius, but it’s not that altruistic. I lack the pure joy of creation, which drives and satisfies me like a true love.
It is time to move beyond enduring pain, beyond pity, and into action.