some like it hot
My happiness runs hot and cold. I live through these periods of high and low knowing that the next always lurks close behind.
Outside there is a bright spring sunshine. I soak it up in mini excursions to get things done, running from one place to the next. It's beauty overwhelms me and I feel small in comparison. Aware that I have nowhere to hide in it's spotlight.
I just went through a period of extreme glee. Happiness was me. Then I started racking my brain for all the reasons I should be stressed out. The sleeplessness began along with a strange insecurity. How is it that I can run from being a cocky big headed female to someone that only wants to duck their head down and keep to themselves?
There's a nervousness to my speech. Its because I'm trying to keep a fluent conversation while my brain dances.
I roll around in bed and cough up the occasional tear. My body and mind are overwhelmed.
I find myself through art and writing; it eases the pressure. I want to go to art school, but I'm so afraid I don't have what it takes, or will never make enough money to be independent. I need to express myself; live in beauty. I fear that journalism can't offer this to me.
I call home in a restless, sleepless state and speak to my brother. Garbage rolls off my tongue. Afterwards I only feel worse, because all I had to offer was empty words while my heart sat in a basin jar.
What am I so afraid of? Sometimes even emotion seems taboo.
Maybe I just need some sleep.
Outside there is a bright spring sunshine. I soak it up in mini excursions to get things done, running from one place to the next. It's beauty overwhelms me and I feel small in comparison. Aware that I have nowhere to hide in it's spotlight.
I just went through a period of extreme glee. Happiness was me. Then I started racking my brain for all the reasons I should be stressed out. The sleeplessness began along with a strange insecurity. How is it that I can run from being a cocky big headed female to someone that only wants to duck their head down and keep to themselves?
There's a nervousness to my speech. Its because I'm trying to keep a fluent conversation while my brain dances.
I roll around in bed and cough up the occasional tear. My body and mind are overwhelmed.
I find myself through art and writing; it eases the pressure. I want to go to art school, but I'm so afraid I don't have what it takes, or will never make enough money to be independent. I need to express myself; live in beauty. I fear that journalism can't offer this to me.
I call home in a restless, sleepless state and speak to my brother. Garbage rolls off my tongue. Afterwards I only feel worse, because all I had to offer was empty words while my heart sat in a basin jar.
What am I so afraid of? Sometimes even emotion seems taboo.
Maybe I just need some sleep.
posted by Gillian Young at 2:41 AM
3 Comments:
These pics are really cool, Gill.
I really like the photos and their captions, especially "spring...."
I can understand how journalism might not be enough for someone with your talent, passion and sensitivity. And, given the top stories in the media these past few weeks and days, I would be rehashing my thoughts about wanting to be part of the profession, too, although this may have nothing to do with your decisions. Keep blooming. You are beautiful.
I really like the photos and their captions, especially "spring...."
I can understand how journalism might not be enough for someone with your talent, passion and sensitivity. And, given the top stories in the media these past few weeks and days, I would be rehashing my thoughts about wanting to be part of the profession, too, although this may have nothing to do with your decisions. Keep blooming. You are beautiful.
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