a noose, but make it sexy

i've been thinking about writing for days.

i think my mind romanticizes writing. and i truly do want to write. it's probably like most things i'm interested in...i'd rather be scared of it than actually attempt doing it.

i spoke a lot about that with my therapist today. and honestly, even if they tried to support, or thought they were supporting...my parents never like...gassed me the fuck up about anything i was doing. mostly because when i was doing something that took a lot of time & effort, or something i was proud of...it was creative. band, choir, musicals, theatre, etc., those were the things that i was really spending time on & doing very well in. and those were the things that i truly enjoyed to the core of my being. and have completely stopped doing as an adult.

slowly over the years i think conversations with my parents started to lean toward "well what are you gonna actually do?" ya know? or like..."how does an adult with a full time job have time to commit to a rehearsal/performance schedule?" ya know? like- digs. and talking to other people around me in the panhandle of goddamn texas probably wasn't the most beneficial either.

the point is, i don't allow myself to do the things that i want to do. and dear god - even while writing this i feel so so much lighter because i'm getting it out. getting out the feelings. getting the endorphins from sitting here typing away like i've romanticized. getting some understanding of myself too. twice recently i've pulled the eight of swords reversed. pointing to freeing myself of my own beliefs that have held me down. i feel that happening in a lot of different ways that i don't entirely know how to describe. but maybe, just maybe...i needed to be broken down completely by the events of the last several months...fuck, the last 2 years...to see life for the first time. to see spirituality as a possibility again. to come to terms with myself.

more than writing, more than breathing, more than better nutrition, i need to start fucking singing. everyday. in front of friends, in front of my partner, in front of the mirror, and maybe even online. i need to warm up and have days where i don't smoke fucking weed. i need to sing with intention and actually learn songs. maybe even write some for god sake. like i dream of, like i yearn for, like i feel like i know is in my soul, but i'm so immensely terrified of it that i'd rather run away and squash the other bright parts of myself before i face the honest truth that i am desperately, deeply, hopelessly in love with music and in love with singing and that nothing feels more right, and the world never feels more at peace than it does when i am singing.

and that feels like- painfully corny to even type out, if i'm being honest. and i know in my heart, mind, and soul that it's not. singing is one of the most natural, original ways that human beings express themselves. it's gorgeous beyond explanation. the feeling that can be portrayed through song is not something that can be communicated through any other art or form of expression. i have the ultimate respect for music and all singers. so why do i feel corny, weird, out-of-place, unoriginal, and even immature when i say that i want to sing and make music?

all of this other shit i have to be exhausted from inside me & yet i can't just let my goddamn self have what i know makes me happy? really? i'm this panini?

please.

pn