Pretend To Be Nice

I feel inclined to perform again.

I suppose if what I really want is a one-sided fanatical love performing may eventually get me there. Otherwise it might help me to deal better with rejection. It might feel less personal if it's not one-on-one.

Ultimately, I miss singing. Though I was never fantastic at it, and even more at a loss the few times I had an audience, I find myself charmed once again at the thought of putting my thoughts to melody for others to hum when they feel the same way. I still need to buy batteries for my keyboard.

My next goal will be an electronic drum set.

I realized earlier, as I was getting out of the car after coming home from house sitting for the ex, that mentioning my current medicated status is somewhat silly. I noted I forgot to take my medication yesterday, and hadn't really considered when I would do so today, but either way I only had two days worth in my system and it was highly unlikely that had begun to effect me in a significant way. I typically forget to take my medication long before it could be rendered useful. I wonder if I am somewhat consistently placebo-ing myself...is that something one can do? I'm quite sure all the problems are in my head anyway (hahaha, get it?)

But, really, I have been taking my history into more careful consideration since I have begun watching Drag Race. I know we all have our own struggles, and it is unfair to compare what one person is capable of dealing with to what another struggles to suffer through, but it is impossible not to. The strength of humanity is so constant and so inspiring it leads to the most damning introspection. Did the fire of my youth burn hot enough for me to emerge from as a new and glorious thing, or just enough to leave a few scars to focus on, attempt to hide, but never overcome? It's hard to say when so much of my memory is lost. I think there are aspects of myself that I need to recover.

To that end I have been watching the last season of Penny Dreadful and it has been most inspiring. I want to sit and sketch Eva Green all day, but I am paralyzed by the fear of doing her spookiness an injustice. I have one episode in the series left, and it's biggest take-away, like nearly all of art, has been that one can never be happy until they come to terms with who they are. In this I can be okay with wanting to write though I consider myself somewhat a boring subject in comparison to the many stories yet to be told on earth- because in my exhausting mediocrity, glossed with tears, anger and pain that seem to stem from no where, perhaps I can help someone come to terms with themselves. And give them a little song to hum that quiets their uneasy heart and allows them to breathe...

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