There are honestly so many negative thoughts running through my head right now that I feel like I can’t even type fast enough to get them out in a clear manner. I just spent the last hour driving home from an extras gig, bawling the entire way. I didn’t want to bother any of my best friends with a random whiny phone call so I just allowed myself to jump into a pit of sorrow and self-pity. I simultaneously love and hate that I feel so strongly about my journey. Right now the only word I can use to describe it is lost. I feel so, so, so lost. All of the time. Well, maybe not ALL of the time. But it certainly feels like it right now, as more tears roll down my cheeks.
Important note: if you are a real life friend or family member of mine – never mention anything about this post to me in real life. For the sake of my pride, I’d like to pretend that I still have a shred of anonymity and dignity when it comes to this blog. The reason why I write it here and cannot discuss it in real life is because I just can’t bring myself to let you see me this way.
Let me also warn any and all readers that this post is going to be incredibly negative but entirely truthful to how I feel in the moment, right now, sitting in the bathtub. YES. You read right. I am typing this while I am in the bathtub. Why? Because… it’s the only thing I know to do at this very moment. Driving home, bathtubs… I don’t know what it is about these two things but it seems like they often are the site of my emotional breakdowns and breakthroughs. They both have a forced solitude, but one is completely sedentary and the other is obviously the opposite. I have no pictures to go along with this post and no inspiring message or motivational quote. I just want to express myself; kind of like the days of LiveJournal. Oh, LiveJournal. Anyone who knew me in high school knew my LiveJournal was plentiful of morose posts about the emotional trappings of being a teenager. I read back on the posts now and think how ridiculous I must have been. Except… I still can be that ridiculous. I’m just a little more hush hush about it now.
I have spent the last three years on the edge of a metaphorical cliff. I’ve never had the bravery or courage to fall freely, but yet I stay right there at the edge, waiting for the right time to jump. I feel lost because I don’t know where my life is going and I’m scared that I’ll never live up to this grand image every one has of me in their minds. I mean, how do they know? They’ve never seen a large scale exhibition of mine. They don’t know what I’m capable or incapable of. How can they know that I’m worth it? How can they know that I can be the one to make it? God, SO many people have made it. It’s frustratingly intimidating and I find myself completely petrified with fear. I read blogs that started from nothing and now they make money off of sharing pretty things. I meet people who craft their heart out and sell their wares and somehow seem completely content with their chosen path. What I wouldn’t give to just rewind back to 2010 to begin this blog then. Perhaps I’d feel more accomplished. Perhaps I’d feel like I could actually call myself a blogger, or even an artist.
I don’t know what to do. Every few weeks I have this breakdown and apply for somewhere between 15-30 jobs that I could almost bear the thought of accepting. And then nothing happens. No calls, no interviews – just silence. As if the universe’s answer was to purposefully make me feel like I had no significance, like I had nothing to offer anyone. Maybe I don’t. Maybe I really don’t have anything in my heart to offer to anyone else. I know I can give my mind, my efforts, my time… but my heart. Fuck. Why do we live in a world driven by money? Why do we live in a society that encourages at least a 40-hour work week to achieve our “dreams”? Sometimes I feel like the only answer I can resort to is giving up at least a portion of my dream. Has it come to that? I hope not.