I'm lonely.
I don't think that I think like everyone else.
I really feel like my brain is wired differently. The experiences I've had in my life have made me great at survival situations, but i honestly struggle to relate to people. I feel like a lot of people have answers that I don't have, and I'm rarely 'on the same page'. I'm very easy to get on with if you met me in real life. I'm well known for being a cheerful laid back person that everyone gets on with. This is just my dark underbelly I guess, this is who I really am underneath it all. It's easier to fake it than me myself, as I'm a very arrogant, antagonistic overly honest person that just annoys the hell out of people.
I find myself disagreeing with so many things that no-one else questions.
It's really lonely right now, I think I'm having a big personality crisis. Which is great, because it means I'm growing - or evolving really, like a pokemon
I feel like I'm talking a different language most of the time. My favourite singer, Tori Amos, does complain about the same thing mind, so I'm a tad bit comforted. I have a quote on my arm - 'he who cannot howl will never find his pack.' I just think I haven't found the rest of my 'pack' yet.
I think I'm helped by being an artist. Whether this is just my artistic personality causing me trouble; I notice that the language I'm speaking, I can at least make art with. I find myself typing at a keyboard, or picking up a pencil. Even if no-one quite understands where I'm coming from (often happens), the odd person might get it. Art for me is my 'howling' - if I'm lucky - someone might hear me and howl back.
My best friend has a father who's mentally ill. I've known my friend for years, and have watched him come to terms with his father's illness, and really begin to bond with him. He found his dad's sketchbook after a fire burnt down his dad's home - and the sketchbook had diary entries in it, with his dad talking of being aware that he was ill, and how he was struggling to think straight. It was heart breaking to hear. This man is a wonderful artist, who lives and breathes his art, however ill and lost he gets. He LIVES it.
All though no-one could understand just what he's going through unless they'd known that kind of illness, I think any artist can be touched by his struggle.
Another wise artist friend of mine once told me 'You're a person first, and an artist second.' I'm really struggling to take that piece of advice, because I know that it's true.
I'm learning to take care of myself and not exploit myself. I'm learning to be myself, even if that costs me a few friends. I've always been a very independent self reliant sort of person that doesn't share things, so I'm very surprised that I'm beginning to need people. I find myself appreciating my family, and actually talking to them.
There's nothing more I can do but keep learning and evolving from my mistakes and keep howling. I'm just lonely for my pack.
I don't think that I think like everyone else.
I really feel like my brain is wired differently. The experiences I've had in my life have made me great at survival situations, but i honestly struggle to relate to people. I feel like a lot of people have answers that I don't have, and I'm rarely 'on the same page'. I'm very easy to get on with if you met me in real life. I'm well known for being a cheerful laid back person that everyone gets on with. This is just my dark underbelly I guess, this is who I really am underneath it all. It's easier to fake it than me myself, as I'm a very arrogant, antagonistic overly honest person that just annoys the hell out of people.
I find myself disagreeing with so many things that no-one else questions.
It's really lonely right now, I think I'm having a big personality crisis. Which is great, because it means I'm growing - or evolving really, like a pokemon
I feel like I'm talking a different language most of the time. My favourite singer, Tori Amos, does complain about the same thing mind, so I'm a tad bit comforted. I have a quote on my arm - 'he who cannot howl will never find his pack.' I just think I haven't found the rest of my 'pack' yet.
I think I'm helped by being an artist. Whether this is just my artistic personality causing me trouble; I notice that the language I'm speaking, I can at least make art with. I find myself typing at a keyboard, or picking up a pencil. Even if no-one quite understands where I'm coming from (often happens), the odd person might get it. Art for me is my 'howling' - if I'm lucky - someone might hear me and howl back.
My best friend has a father who's mentally ill. I've known my friend for years, and have watched him come to terms with his father's illness, and really begin to bond with him. He found his dad's sketchbook after a fire burnt down his dad's home - and the sketchbook had diary entries in it, with his dad talking of being aware that he was ill, and how he was struggling to think straight. It was heart breaking to hear. This man is a wonderful artist, who lives and breathes his art, however ill and lost he gets. He LIVES it.
All though no-one could understand just what he's going through unless they'd known that kind of illness, I think any artist can be touched by his struggle.
Another wise artist friend of mine once told me 'You're a person first, and an artist second.' I'm really struggling to take that piece of advice, because I know that it's true.
I'm learning to take care of myself and not exploit myself. I'm learning to be myself, even if that costs me a few friends. I've always been a very independent self reliant sort of person that doesn't share things, so I'm very surprised that I'm beginning to need people. I find myself appreciating my family, and actually talking to them.
There's nothing more I can do but keep learning and evolving from my mistakes and keep howling. I'm just lonely for my pack.
Keep howling... the pack isn't as far away as you think.
I am nowhere near caffinated enough to write in detail the conclusions that have been reached. Maybe after another cup of coffee...