I’ve spent all week trying to figure out what I want to say. Sometimes words aren’t able to represent feelings – or a swathe of feelings that’s been quietly rising up inside you for months, years? Maybe that’s why being a writer feels insane at times. It’s an impossible task. The complexity of experiences felt in the mind, the body, the deep, darkness of the soul, are not easily simplified. They don’t play by my rules.
I’ve been compelled to make things. Some of them written, some spoken, some matter-bound. They’re fickle, little creatures to bring into existence. Remember The Raggy Dolls? I’m creating my own set of misfit prototypes with the fervent belief that each iteration takes me closer to… wherever I’m meant to be going?
Things I’ve learned so far:
-
My logical brain runs the show and hasn’t left a lot of space for unanticipated magic
-
Being clever cannot inoculate you from making mistakes
-
Seeking external validation is the straightest line to heartbreak
-
It’s ok to let other people keep the flame alive for a while
-
Fuck ups are the gateway to seeing what you’ve been hiding from
Terror has turned out to be the signpost I’ve been waiting for. As the secret something uncoils itself inside me, the fear unleashes itself in ever more insidious ways. I am flayed open, still alive, still aware of every hurt and insecurity being displayed for passersby. That’s the gift I’m holding out my hands for.
There are breadcrumbs of redirection. Years ago, they were sweet and coy – now they stamp their feet indignantly. Doors are being slammed, windows bolted shut. I cannot be trusted with subtlety anymore.
Some skeletons in my underworld need befriending. The lurkers. I trust them to help me build different things… and torch others to the ground. I want them to do their worst. To leave only the core of me, the endless and indestructible.
Oh, the drama of it all. The bliss and ecstasy of seeing the mirage lifted. Hibernation is ending as spring thaws the ground and what was always underneath reveals itself. A friend whispers “aspetta e credi” into my ear. That is enough for now.
Image credits:
I - Digital art by Maria Shatalova
II - @gothsdoingthings on Instagram
