There is a leak in my bones
It lets in the wind is a non-starter
If you want to write then goddammit try harder.
So last night while trying to fall asleep I decided I needed to get all of the venom out of me. I wrote a long detailed post about my life, or rather the things about my life that range from sad to depressing.
I probably wrote for half an hour before my emotional exhaustion started translating into physical exhaustion and I was able to fall asleep. I clicked “save” after wrapping up and the diatribe promptly disappeared forever because of course it did.
Not that it helped. I thought venting all of my frustrations into a private blog entry might lift a weight from my shoulders but instead it just seemed to give more credence to my sorrows and to the maxim that some things are just better left unsaid.
I don’t know how to get the poison out. I need a creative outlet of sorts. I wish I had a guitar amp or some decent recording software. I wish I knew how to functionally code software. I wish I could draw or paint something that didn’t look like it fell out of a middle schooler’s trapper keeper. I feel like I used to be a decent poet at one point in time, but that’s like being a great latin speaker. Nobody has any use for poetry anymore, or poets for that matter.
Even if I crossed that obstacle it wouldn’t change the fact that I don’t have time for any of that. I get up early as I can before work just to have some time to unwind. Other than that, my life is essentially all grind. Maybe when school starts again this semester I’ll be too busy to pay attention to my woes.
I miss my friends. Heck, I should say I miss having friends. Aside from reading a few status updates I never hear from anyone anymore. I’ll send out a few texts hoping to stimulate some conversation but after exchanging a few pleasantries or oddball jokes the dialog dries up, assuming I get any kind of response at all.
If I had the resources to socialize I might be interested in making new friends, though after being repeatedly told how socially retarded I am I feel anxious in most social settings and subsequently abstain from most conversations. It’s better to have people think you’re lame than to open your mouth and remove all doubt I suppose. I also have a family to consider and how my behaviors reflect upon them, hence the continual efforts to be the model patriarch.
But there is a constant tension - the desire to rise to the occasion, so to speak, and assume all responsibilities of life, family, career, finances on the chin without complaint or to throw caution to the wind and embrace the chaos of the unknown.
Wishful thinking, as I could never walk away from my obligation to look out of my family’s well being. I do need to strike some kind of balance. I feel the Dionysian slumbering within this clean-cut-square growing restless.
I want my life to be sexy and artistic. I want to shine.