I’m trying to write through all the pain and uncertainty. Occasionally, I’m able to recycle my demons into art. And that creation can be a safe hold for some else’s suffering. That is when I feel the greatest connection to the people around me.
We need support. We are emotional creatures. We love art and self-expression. But nearly every ounce of freedom has been squeezed out of us in the course of our lives. Standing alone hurts. Being supported by the people around you doesn't hurt.
If there was nothing else to do -- no emails to answer, no texts to write, no statuses to browse through, if there was nothing pulling us away from who we really are, and all we were left with was ourselves -- then we could move freely and it would be beautiful.
I don’t know if I can read anymore inspirational articles. I don’t think it’s a good use of my time. What do I do with all the inspiration I find chasing someone else’s story? I want my life to be real.
Ads and films fascinate us. We all want to be like someone that we’ve seen on a screen somewhere. And we try to be. But the thing is, we already are these people. Our lives are the same as their lives. We all have the same desires, the same shitty struggles, petty arguments, mind chatter, resilience, pride, joy, and ultimate desire to be loved.
If we are fearful in the first steps of unveiling our inner freak, the one that screams aloud in funny voices in front of the mirror, and we let that fear shut us down, then we quietly remain the world’s best-kept secrets.
Most days we’re just memories of ourselves. Diluted versions of former originals. We can’t even claim ownership of our own perception. But every once in a while someone or something comes along and the dying spark inside turns into a small fire and you can kind of see it behind our eyes for a second or two.
Be honest. You think that's too simple?...Try running a campaign past your best friend that has known you since boarding school and see if they make you second-guess it the minute it comes out of your mouth. If you can get it past them, there’s a good chance it’s true.
There is a feeling out there that the true artists and creators, and by true it is usually implied that they are also poor and commercially unsuccessful, are braver, stronger, more independent. But they also live out of their cars.
There is an aching beauty inside all of us, trapped in the dark, begging to be set free. We have to fight every day to stay beautiful, or else the world will tear us down, lock us up. Our beauty will hide deeper and deeper in a dark space that light cannot reach unless we have the courage to rescue it and set it free and coat the entire universe with our magic.
I learned more things about my character than I was prepared for, some truths I didn’t really want to face. I was hoping to have a good idea and be rewarded immediately. But there was no glory, only work.