Chasing Dreams. Dashing Them.

I’ve been known to brag that I am inhuman in certain aspects, unbound by the desires and limitations of man and unmoved by the things that move us. Of course, it’s complete bullshit, but you know what drugs are like. But the thing is, if I squint my eyes hard enough, and if the light is just right, I can almost see where I am coming from.

Which is why it’s frustrating to feel the need to think and, goodness, re-evaluate my perception of self. It’s frustrating to realise that I am not that different. I am not unmoved. In fact, I am so moved by the things around me and so motivated by the desire to create that it makes me hollow inside. There’s so much inside me. I fucking have things to say!

I came to this conclusion while listening to Saul Williams and dancing around my bedroom. I decided ‘I want to be a dancer’ and thought nothing of it until I started thinking about all of the other things that I want to do. Like write, obviously. I go on about writing so often that people often wonder if it’s the only thing I want from life. But I also want to be able to communicate with paint. With poetry. I want to speak with music. I want to surround myself in beautiful things. I want to act. I want to transform. I want to escape.

Sadly, my confidence has also been dealt a rather vicious blow. I thought I was self-assured. I thought I was communicative. As it turns out, my voice is being pulled down by the undercurrent of someone I don’t want to be.