It's Been A Minute...

I want to write again. I want to be able to capture the way I feel about the world around me with words.

The same way I used to when I was a child.

The same way I did all those years ago when I first started picking up a pencil for this art. But my mind and my feelings are much more intimidating, much more conflicting then they were back then. I'm hardly recognizable by old friends. A mishmash of complaints from past lovers and friends I left behind so willingly. My hair is long and disheveled because they never liked it short. The beginnings of a beard forming because they loved the way I looked with it. My rings around my neck and not my fingers because they wanted to wear them every so often. I mistake slight changes in tone and panic like I did something wrong because they always called me out. I try to ignore criticism because they wanted me to be comfortable in who I am. I don't share much about my life to people who aren't around every day. And those that are around me, they know often too much about what goes on. But what they don't know and what I refuse to tell them is that most nights I sit here.

In the dark. With a notebook and a pen. Doing the same thing at 24 that I did at 23, and 22, and 21, and 20 and so forth and so forth....

The human psyche is a fragile one. It's a dangerous one when it begins to unravel. When it becomes aware that it's broken, and those around it can see the cracks in the smile that you've tried so hard to hide....

There's a knock on the door behind me, and I set my pen down, sitting back and rubbing my face with my hands. The clock on the left side of my desk reads 9:15pm. Shit... I'm late.... A voice calls from the other side of the door, reminding me of plans I made and promises I have to keep. So, reluctantly, I put the pen in my notebook and close it up. Pulling the elastic band that holds it closed over the cover. Getting up slowly, I grab my coat off the back of my chair and flick the lap off on my desk before grabbing my keys and opening the door. Maybe one day, I'll be able to go back to who I was before all this. Before this morning. Before losing it all. But for now, I have to learn to live with who I am and the mistakes I've made.

Because that's all one can do.