Eventually it will be okay...

...but eventually may never come.


I wish to preface this a bit:

I love my ...other half (words lack the depth I seek here).. more than.. ..shit. All the words (x∞ +1). My undoing was in spite of his valiant efforts, never, ever, a result of them.

Need

We had moved in together. Too soon, but there was little choice. I was without my son, my friends, and any shred of my personal space, was long gone. I was unbelievably alone and yet never by myself. There was no space, aside from my body, that was truly mine. 

Everything in my life, everything I loved and cared about, was ultimately under someone else's control. I am was a recovered cutter and bulimic/anorexic. Bulimia, anorexia, cutting are all about one thing: control. I perceived none, so I made some. 

I used that control to destroy what I hated, what kept letting me down, that which was filled with nothing but failure, Me. 

...............................

I hate this post. I hate this piece. 

I will hold on...

I told myself that I would post these in chronological order, from beginning to end... but.. but.. I'm feeling what I painted tonight so freaking hard, man.

Currently listening to Mumford & Sons, whom I love, especially this track - Thistles and Weeds...

My heart breaks at every line, every note. This song just wheedles its way into the chinks in my carefully constructed armor and reminds me of my inherent, and inevitable, weaknesses.

bah.

so, out of, or in, order?

“Memory is the diary we all carry about with us.”

-Oscar Wilde


The 'Lost' series, piece 2:

Caged Heart

My mother never wanted me. She pushed me out of her life, and out of her heart with the same kind of tightly controlled smile that you find among the popular high school girls and type-A, corporate-minded females. At some point, I ceased to be a real, feeling, human to her and became instead a conviction... an 18 year sentence. 

I throw myself at her headlong, whining piteously at her feet like some unwanted dog.  My heart... desperate for escape from loneliness, batters itself against the glass like some horribly caged bird.  

In these blogs I will attempt to explain, in words, the feelings I was having when I composed the piece. Composed? Constructed? Something...

I suppose it's best to begin at the beginning...

The 'Lost' series:

These pieces were brought to fruition in my mind in the early parts of the last year of my life. They made it onto paper in the last 7 months or so... They represent the losing of one's place in life.

Piece 1:

Wanderlust

 I kept moving, telling myself I desired the movement, felt a need to travel, explore new places, but I wasn't telling myself the truth.

I was alone, and lonelier than I had ever been. I had a place to live, but I was homeless. My heart hurt, I was estranged from my son, and my lover didn't seem to understand my pain. 

My attempts to interact with society were contrived, mediocre, and left me feeling drained. 

I wanted desperately to belong somewhere, feel needed and wanted, so I searched the maps, unfolded them in my mind and plotted the locations and hearts of everyone who ever claimed to give a shit. I contacted those I believed, those I held out real hope for. Set aside a room inside me; made the bed, fluffed the pillows and invited them in...

The new space reserved for my work

I will be posting my art here from now on... I hope you follow me, moreover, I hope my work brings something to you, to your life. Please, tell me how you feel, what you'd like to see, and *please* comment on what you find.

Come, 

 Grow with me.