"I'm Sorry" : a phrase to heal or just a cover up?

I’m Sorry

 “ I’m Sorry”, the common and often too late saying expected to heal all pain and take back all sorrow given. But just as strong as words are when they are given, they can also be weak.

The fabric symbolizes a person’s soul, or spirit. I ripped it into pieces and then took common saying’s and put them into literal terms. I “ripped it a new one”. “I burned it”. “I walked all over it like a door mat”. “I ran it down into the ground”(with my car). I used it to clean up messes I made. I stained it with my own color, my own want for what I thought it should be. I “stabbed it in the back”.  

Then, I said “I’m sorry” but nothing changed. It was still in a mess of jagged pieces in front of me. So I drowned some of it with tea, to try and comfort it, to warm it up after the damage. 

I tried cutting into it to release some of the pain. I collected the pieces and tried to align them back to the way they were before. I attempted to stitch it back together, to make it whole again. 

But I couldn’t, some of the pieces had gone missing, some were too destroyed to sew back together. I beaded the wounds to make them tragically beautiful, to romanticize them, just as the movies do with all pain.

 To make them acceptable, because everyone wants to be a beautiful disaster and not just a broken one. 

I told it, that it was beautiful and strong as I used thick threads to help hold it together, because it could no longer hold itself. Then I placed it on the bars that it never wanted to grasp onto.

 A fragile frame, hollow and now exposed through the holes and misplaced stitching. It was there ,on the bars, but it wasn’t the same as before.

 I said I was sorry, but sorry just wasn’t enough.

Poison

Poison

Do you ever feel like someone can have so much poison in their life that no matter how much of it another person sucked out from your veins that you could never get it all, and it would never be gone?

Just that one ounce of poison left slowly killing you, just prolonging the process really.

I don’t think the venom is fair to either party, the infected or the clean. One permanently damaging the other, the uncontaminated, now tasting something not brought onto them but feeling it. Slowly running out of air all while trying to heal.

I assume the untainted could only try to heal for so long until they had to give up, or  perhaps just got to tired of trying.

My venom, will never fully be absent from my veins, I’ve had too high a dose for too long. Irreparable. No recovery. My healer will endure this too, and they too shall shortly be gone or beyond repair.

Now the venom effecting both of us, infecting both of us.

 I often wonder if I should have just let go at the most infected moment, end this, let the poison have me, and me alone, now there’s two, pairs of hands clasped together, pulses both suffering a lingering death.

“I was interested in everything and committed to nothing.”

“I was interested in everything and committed to nothing.”
— Gregory David Roberts (Shantaram)

When I was little I used to be enthralled by all things. I wanted to learn everything, experience everything accomplish more then I probably could.

Therefore I did. I took part in many things and now here I sit fully graduated with a college degree, full resume, and unemployed, kicking myself for it.

 I wonder if I could have put all my energy into one thing just one obsessive thing, could I have been something great? Something better?? Would I have a focus now that would be so strong that the stagnant waters of unemployment wouldn’t be such a burden because the newly acquired free time would be ample opportunity to practice?

I have so many opportunities for hobbies that instead of choosing one I do none. Indecision shall be my lifes enemy and I am set on conquering him but for now avoidance is my ally.   

Pricks

Pricks.

It’s funny how life rips us apart leaving scars and self made prisons of confinement, I guess what I’m really trying to say is, that in the end, everyone is a prick, the only way to survive it to build a cage of your own hoping your pulses haven’t rotted yet.

Art For Arts Sake! ( Rip It All Away)

Hey so I thought I would try to start a series called Art For Art's Sake! and post it to follow an art piece or idea that I had recently posted on the blog. 

I wanted to post the piece on its on to give people a chance to read into it on their own and make judgments before hearing an explanation, reason, or rhyme. How else would I know how it originally comes across! 

Just to fill you in a bit, the writing that accompanies the art and will most likely accompany all my art post are written by me as well. For me writing is a part of the art piece and not just about it. Sometimes the words inspires the art and sometimes the art the words. Everything I create holds a story behind it, because the stories are my favorite part! 

So now that we are all caught up lets start on the last post titled:    Rip It All Away.  

I thought if I could rip it all away

the pain, the fear,

the memories, and regret.

I would find something spectacular,

but all I found was bone stained with faults,

empty, and hollow.

This piece was inspired from the regret, the would of, should of, could ofs , in life. That constant nagging voice held in every person telling them they should have done it all differently. Knowing for sure that if everything could be erased and redone at a certains moment that the world wouldn't be so bad. 

But all that would mean is that the world wouldn't be human, the world wouldn't be real. The most sincere part of any person are the faults they carry and collect along the way. The imperfections. The bruises of betrayal and rough calluses from beginning again.  

If restarting was a button of renewal we would all be a half push away from loosing ourselves on our stretch for perfection. We humans have this weird idea of perfection and that it can exist ,be conquered, and held. 

When the real truth is there is no such thing as perfection at all. We all know this and choose to believe this concoction of a myth, ingredients consisting of two parts prison and one part pain. 

Fun Questions

Fun, deleted boring questions

SO...... I was off today and became a bit bored, found this to be completely entertaining :D, Also used it as a practicing in opening up and being ok with what others think.

• 1. Are looks important in a relationship? always stop kidding yourselves
• 2. Are relationships ever worth it? does it contain happiness? happiness is worth it
• 3. Are you a virgin? nah
• 12. Do you forgive betrayal? no, I don’t have the heart
• 13. Do you get jealous easily? no, it takes to much time, I gots things to do
• 15. Do you have any piercings? 7
• 16. Do you have any tattoos? I could never commit to one image and be eternally satisfied, cheers to the people who can
• 17. Do you like kissing in public? sure
• 20. Do you shower every day? have to, otherwise I would be the equivalent to a grease monkey
• 21. Do you think someone has feelings for you? yeah, I mean I would if I weren’t already me!(jk sometimes I pretend to be cocky)
• 22. Do you think someone is thinking about you right now? cheese
• 23. Do you think you can last in a relationship for 6 months and not cheat? already have
• 26. Has anyone told you they don’t want to ever lose you? si poppi 
• 27. Has someone ever written a song or poem for you? I’m the writer, not my co-parts
• 28. Have you ever been cheated on? no
• 29. Have you ever cheated on someone? I could never break someone like that
• 30. Have you ever considered plastic surgery? If so, what would you change about your body? yes a tad of Lipo with a dash of a nose straightening 
• 31. Have you ever cried over a guy/girl? I am human? who wrote this mockery of a question!
• 39. Have you ever wanted someone you couldn’t have? I always want what I can’t have, It drives from my need to never feel fully satisfied.
• 40. Have you ever written a song or poem for someone? I'm not inspired by happiness, and all things sad brew from my own self
• 41. Have you had sex so far this year? Tapped that ass this morning
• 47. How old are you?  I feeling 22
• 50. If your first true love knocked on your door with apology and presents, would you accept? I would take the present
• 52. Is there anyone you’ve given up on? Why? yes, I couldn’t hold the pain of hoping for them anymore
• 55. Share a relationship story. In the first 3 weeks of dating him I passed out on his bathroom floor at 11 am, puked in his car on the way to the hospital, peed massive amounts of blood. Sat together in the hospital room for 8 hours with out eating, doctors declared everything seemed fine. went to subway for a celebratory sandwhich and painkillers. He’s never left me, I must be pretty awesome. or maybe he is 
• 56. State 8 facts about your body . blood created of coffee, brain concocted of nightmares, nails to snap at one touch, dancing legs when sleep ensues, a  perfect lined smile to cover up, soft palms clasped around cups. Tired eyes of restless skys, a mouth never good at telling lies.
• 61. What is the first thing you notice in someone? their laugh
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

A Small Share A Day: Mug

Today I am inspired by a cup. Correct I said a cup. 

The days purchase and discovered treasure.  A little ceramic pleasure with all the promise of a energetic spring at sunrise and a warm hand hold at nights end.

 Filled to the brim with a raspberry colored liquid with notes of rose petals at dawn. 

Held with caffeine it brings hopes for the days being, all the possibilities in each scolding swallow.

 Nights gripped with camomile to calm into a dreamy sleep, fog, and drizzle.

 Perhaps this cup holds to much and sipping away it's weight could relieve the pressure.
 Perhaps it feels to hollow, swallowed in it's emptiness.

 Ignore the perhaps for the ceramic delight shall be filled and used until destroyed.

Rip It All Away.

I thought if I could rip it all away

the pain, the fear,

the memories, and regret.

I would find something spectacular,

but all I found was bone stained with faults,

empty, and hollow.

One Day You'll Be Dead

So I recently engaged in reading Show Your Work by Austin Kleon. This book was not a planned purchased just a matter of gravity hitting the shelves and allowing this to fall into my grasp, oh and how the weight of it would be. I was only a few pages deep when I hit the "Read The Obituaries" section. Now most people will have thought that the shocking moment would be when Kleon announces the obvious in saying that death is waiting for all of us.

 Although most people ignore it, I am highly aware of this accusation. So hyper sensitive to it that I am in a constant state of fearing that I haven't  done enough, and  my life has sum up to: 2 +2 equals a whole lot of nothings. Which is about the experience and feelings on a daily basis, being in my early 20's and enduring one hell of a quater life crisis ( and yeah thats a real thing I looked it up)! What hit me like a weight was picturing a near death experience. I tried to imagine what I would want my obituaries to say, what would I have regretted not doing.

 The scariest part was coming up with nothing. I had nothing I couldn't come up with one damn thing for myself. All I could think about was how incredibly lost I feel on a daily basis and how this book helped in pointing that out just a bit more. I spent days rehashing this question over and over continuing to come up short. I spent those days staring out the restaurant windows wondering if it would always be like this, would my indecisive mannerism leave me in this state longer then the average human or worse indefinitely. I couldn't bare it, the question with no result was weighing  me down and I couldn't balance it alone. So I began to ask others to see if the question would be so simple for them, and for a few lucky people it was, but for the rest is was just a muddle mess of maybes, I thinks, and I'm not sures. 

It was beginning to feel tragic. Is this world just a big mess of lost people trying to muddle their way around, Ignoring death simply because it was the only option? The more I thought about it, the fuzzier it became until a friend asked me to answer the question.

 I began to text back"  "OK so I was thinking at work and all I could come up with is a whole bunch of nothing." * What I actually texted was "OK so I was thinking at work and all I could come up with is, I would want my name to be known, to have created something that left a mark ( a good one). I want to have the means to create and a reason to create them but I wouldn't know what to focus on because I'm too indecisive, If I could find a way to make art and write and combine that into a living. I have so many ideas and no reason to pursue them, also I want to be louder, to be herd, make more people laugh, and tell the people who truly deserve it  fuck off! while having more patience for the ones that matter."

 This answer flew out of my finger tips and onto the screen before I even knew what I was typing. Some how the answer never hit my brain and fell right out onto my cell phone without my permission. I had an answer finally a decent one and it actually came from me and not somebody telling me who I should be or what I should be.

 Honestly I was kind of hoping for something more like merchandiser, personal trainer, or publicist would have fell out , an answer with a little more direction and a little less "your still lost" written in it, but hey beggars can't be choosers. So Kleon Im taking your advice and following your direction, I'm starting this blog on a whim, hope, and a dash of dread that through documenting my work and thoughts I can find myself and people can find me.