Lately I've been dabbling in vivid hues - bold streaks of thick oil conquer my pages. I've used red, green, orange, purple... anything but those drab tones of last year. And with them, I've made real pictures: a sailboat, a horsey, smiling people.
But it's all a bit too perfect, and if you look closely, you can see the watercolors dripping down beneath the oil.
I still fall to my knees in the shower and cry.I still wake up in the night haunted by my dreams.
I still look at a broken piece of glass and think about hurting myself.
Sometimes I think I use this space to pretend I'm okay when I'm not. I pretend that I'm always happy, that I never want to hide in bed for weeks at a time, that I'm never lonely or scared.
But it's a lie, and I can't lie forever.
The gray is still there. Still fresh. Still wet to the touch.
16 comments:
not forever beautiful girl, not forever.
I understand. It's easy to put on your game face, and hard to be real sometimes. I struggle with the same thing.
My dear friend: The gray can only be washed away by a good, hearty cry. So go ahead: unleash your anguish. Turn to the handful of trusted souls in your life if you need a shoulder to lean on. You may think your burden is too much for them, but trust me, they can handle it.
On the other hand, the gray gets darker if you let your emotions fester inside. Then, you run the risk of crashing into that dangerous mirror.
Just get through the night, and sunshine will break through. I promise!
Sometimes we have to just appreciate that there are more good days than bad days... Healing takes time.
I'm so in agreement. Today stuff is a big icecream cone full of poo with poo sprinkles lightly coating the poo nut-fudge that the pretty girl behind the counter suggested I get after batting her eyelids in my general direction.
It's also balls. Sweaty, smelly, stinky crusty balls that have gone blue from lack of use because the girl batting her eyelids was just after a tip.
And it's green, festy green boogers. The ones hidden right up the back of your nose; so far that because you cut your fingernails the other day your can't quite reach and you so know that the aforementioned poo-sicle wench took a good hard look and thought "Um, like grose. Boogers."
So there it is. The world is Blue and Brown and Green. Especially when you look at it from a long way away.
Of course if you take a closer look there's some crazy lady messing around with oil paints and writing blogs. Kind wish she was here. Would get rid of some of the Blues atleast.
Chin up buttercup. I poured my heart out to a sheila the other day and she told me to fuck off. Poo, balls and boogers I tells ya. Poo, balls and boogers.
Sweetie, I'm saying this NOT to dismiss your feelings but to assure you that you're SO not alone. I've got it together - I've got a great marriage and a beautiful family and a terrific job and *I* still feel like hiding under the bed sometimes. I do my crying in the car, not the shower. Just know that it's okay -you're not some sort of freak for feeling this way.
Love!
Chili
Oh I know! It's so easy to put on the bright and happy face when you're anguished inside. I just try my hardest to push past it all and try to be the truly happy person that people see.
Oh honey. We love you in whatever color.
(Not quite as vivid of a comment as Aussie Boy's, but heartfelt none the less.)
I loved how this post was written.
I understand.
When I first started blogging, it was all about the absolute honesty, which was easy because I posted about every mid- to major thought, feeling or event. But now I'm blogging less, I really have to push myself to be honest, because I don't want to give the wrong impression. Once you feel you 'know' your blog friends, you no longer feel the veil of anonymity, and and this can lead us to try and put a brave face on, just like we do with real life friends.
I hope you'll continue to share your real feelings with us as much as you can.
Hey, I might be just a kid, but there's one thing I have learned: sooner or later, in one way or another, things turn out okay, more or less. It's not easy, or fun, and it may not be perfect in the end, but it will be better. And you certainly have people who care about you very much to help you along the way.
I think flutter is right. On all counts.
Like a monet, beautiful from a distance but a mess up close? I know the feeling. Don't pretend to be something you're not, take consolance in shoes, friends, cats, whatever you need. For me, it always seems to be sleep. But you can't sleep away pain either unfortunately.
You are a wonderous mixed-media piece of art.
I heard once that "life can not be all little happy high notes." (how obnoxous would that become?) "Give me the bass, the crash of the cymbols and the minor chords I can take it".
It takes the whole lot of them to create beautiful music.
(too many mixed metaphors? *grin*)
Thank you for sharing whatever you choose to share.
~Fiona
I don't have anything profound to say, just that I know. The greys really suck.
I believe that for some of us, we will never look at certain objects without thinking of the damage they can do to our skin. We will never look at greys and misty blues without relating to their sadness. And we will never fail to appreciate being able to look down on that sadness from a happier place, once we realize we're there.
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