Nothingness & Creativity

I’m not as depressed as I sound. I’m more…stuck. And that’s been making me depressed. I feel like all my posts combined on this blog make me sound like I’m completely depressed. But the whole reason I started this blog was so that I would have a space to vent and let go, so, you know, there you go. šŸ™‚Ā 

It’s been so easy for me to get lost in the nothing-ness, to create the nothing-ness, even as I yearn to create something. It’s not that I enjoy the nothing-ness, quite the opposite actually. I despise it; it’s the worst thing in the world. The more I go into it, the harder it gets to pull myself out of it.

Why is DC so hard to get to? Why is it so out of reach? What is it about me that isn’t good enough for DC? What is it about me that isn’t good enough for any of the guys I like? What is it about me that isn’t good enough for Allamiah? How much longer can I continue this way?

If it’s not one thing, it’ll be something else. What happens if I do get accepted to graduate school? Who am I kidding that I’ll allow myself to get $75,000 into debt to pay for this dream? Who am I kidding that I’m ever going to find what I want to do, be truly content that what I do matters, makes a difference,Ā andĀ makes me happy? Who am I kidding with all of this?

I ache to create something. I want to grab a notebook and pen and sit down and…create…something. But when my life is in limbo and I’m allowing myself to ignore it, allowing myself to push it away so I don’t have to look at it, pushing it away and away and away. Well, that’s no solution obviously. If I can’t get anywhere by ignoring my problem, the reasonable and normal thing to do is to face it and find a solution. It’s not that I lack the courage to do that, it’s that I lack the tools. It’s like math all over again: I’ve convinced myself so well I can’t do it that I don’t even bother trying to find a way anymore. I can’t go back to Houston. I can’t. I can’t face everyone, and God knows, God knows I can’t do the wedding. IĀ hateĀ weddings. I hate seeing everyone. I hate the entire community. I’m not going to go back, no one can make me. No one’s going to make me go back and sit quietly through hours, and days, and weeks of people telling my mom that I looked like this and I looked like that and oh, why can’t she buy me niceĀ fashionableĀ clothes? Everyone, everyone, everyone. Don’t understand why I can’t just be normal and happy? That’s why. I’m a different person completely when I’m in new company. I ooze confidence and charm and happiness. People love me. And why wouldn’t they? I’m such a normal, happy person around themĀ because that’s who I am. And then I go home. To the community. Ahh, the community. And they take who I am at heart, and they twist it, and I become stressed out, so stressed out, and I completely lose my confidence, and I’m therefore no longer happy. Without my happiness I’m not me. Why take someone who’s natural tendency is to be happy and turn her into that? I. Don’t. Know. Ā