Wednesday, April 6, 2005

Just Let Go

I missed my History class again today. Somehow my grade is higher in there than in the classes I actually feel obligated to appear in… go figure. I’m wondering if History is what I should be doing with my education; perhaps I could get a major in History and a minor in Creative Writing, or Film, or something equally passionate and hopeless and beautiful.

Structure. My sentences used to have structure, they used to have flair. Somehow I feel like my writing has become stale in the past few years, or maybe I’ve just lost interest in writing altogether. I have plenty of ideas for things, but it is so rare that I write them out. No matter what it is, I feel like my writing is a square peg trying to be forced into a round hole. There has to be an avenue I’ve yet to explore, something that can hold my interest longer than a few pages -- something that is truly and distinctly me. Journalism is a part of me, comics are a part of me, short stories are too… but what is lacking?

I hand you a story or a comic or a drawing, you smile politely and skim through the first few pages. I’m looking for genuine feedback. So I make creative friends. Some are writers, some are artists, some are dreamers. It doesn’t matter, the need to create is a genuinely unique thing, and it seems there are only a handful of people that understand it. It’s not a good day unless I can create something -- a drawing, an idea, a story, and the pressure to create something worthwhile seems to bog down my thought processes. Others don’t have this problem. They create and create and are so prolific and amazing that when I see their work I want to cry. They are inspired, they are inspirations. Where is my Muse?

I’m becoming the person they want me to be. The person they need. The protector and the lover and brother all rolled into one. Is it relief I’m feeling that my struggle is moving to the next step, or sadness? Can I hide in the security I’ve created for myself? Is it best to start all over? Will I ever know what I want if I keep standing still. I want to go, and I want you go to with me. Take me there! I can never hope to get there by myself.

My peers will move mountains and make their mark on the world, why won’t I? I have the ideas, but where are my dreams and where is my passion? A man without aspirations is a lost soul. I’m looking to find someone, I’m looking for someone to find me.

Where is my heart? I’m still looking, I suppose. I fall in love and it makes me sick. The only feelings I have, the only real feelings I’ve had in ages are about this one person. One failed relationship to the next, how can this be any different? It's different because it's you. It's not love, it's not strong enough to be love. I don't get to feel anything that strong. I may never feel anything that strong again. I try to cry, but can’t. There’s no release for me, only a soft and slow fade back to nothingness. I’m sad when it’s over, not because they’re gone but because the feelings are. Were those my chances at happiness? Will I ever feel that much again?

Why can’t I feel the same way about myself as I do about you? I sit in awe of your achievements and of your talent. I could ramble on for days about your beauty or your loyalty or your heart. I smile, and say how amazing you are. You look back, nod, and keep walking. Maybe one day you’ll feel what everyone else is feeling.
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