While I was doing the dishes this morning, I was thinking about
writing. Yesterday, while I was at work, my brain seemed to have settled
on the word ‘subculture’. And there it was– the bittersweet niche of
inappropriateness & debauchery that I could relocate to and set up
shop.
With the topic of subculture, I feel like I put enough distance between myself and the parts of my life that I’m trying to distance myself from. Yet, I am never going to be normal, or snuff out my crazy flare-ups. (Perhaps I like the term “flare-ups of crazy” better, the latter sounds like a venereal disease, haha. )
I’ve been a fickle writer the last five years, at best. A few years after starting to dance, the creative well seemed to lose its source of nutrients….too many distractions, a little bit of experimenting with drugs, being in a shitty relationship, having too lax of a lifestyle.
Struggling with anxiety and bouts of depression the last couple of years didn’t help matters either.
Well, maybe it was just the majority of my 20s, and all the self-discovery and trial-and-error that everyone goes through. I’m currently working on an essay about how much better 27 is than 21. Like, for real.
In any case, I feel like I’m finally starting to wake up. I’m ready to, I no longer need to keep my head buried in the sand and stay numb to block out reality.
Maybe that’s it- it’s impossible for me to create alternate realities if my own isn’t comfortable. And throw in a bit of don’t-give-a-shit-what-anyone-thinks-about-my-words, which also comes in your later 20s (if you’re lucky
)
Peace & Chickengrease, y’all,
Kelly
With the topic of subculture, I feel like I put enough distance between myself and the parts of my life that I’m trying to distance myself from. Yet, I am never going to be normal, or snuff out my crazy flare-ups. (Perhaps I like the term “flare-ups of crazy” better, the latter sounds like a venereal disease, haha. )
I’ve been a fickle writer the last five years, at best. A few years after starting to dance, the creative well seemed to lose its source of nutrients….too many distractions, a little bit of experimenting with drugs, being in a shitty relationship, having too lax of a lifestyle.
Struggling with anxiety and bouts of depression the last couple of years didn’t help matters either.
Well, maybe it was just the majority of my 20s, and all the self-discovery and trial-and-error that everyone goes through. I’m currently working on an essay about how much better 27 is than 21. Like, for real.
In any case, I feel like I’m finally starting to wake up. I’m ready to, I no longer need to keep my head buried in the sand and stay numb to block out reality.
Maybe that’s it- it’s impossible for me to create alternate realities if my own isn’t comfortable. And throw in a bit of don’t-give-a-shit-what-anyone-thinks-about-my-words, which also comes in your later 20s (if you’re lucky
)Peace & Chickengrease, y’all,
Kelly
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