Between Nothing

Holding on to something that isn't there?  Questions seem to be what continue running through your head whenever you're trying to escape.  Escape the fact you have NO answers to them.

Why is it that when you close your eyes, in an attempt to concentrate on change, nothing does?  And when you open those same eyes, everything is passing?  Except your own thoughts.

Is it a disorder that plagues my mind, and drives my stability wild?  Is it beyond frustration which pushes my thoughts over the edge?  I don't know.  This late evening/early morning I sit here, in full regret.  Trying to change these thoughts, but at the same time knowing it would be easier, and maybe better if I did what they are telling me . . . I fight it.  I try to anyway.  Feelings of being a disappointment.  I stay awake planning my own demise.  I plan to be free someday.  But that someday lurks in the back of my mind.  Each day I feel this way, and walk out like I'm fine . . . I'm not fine.  And when I return I know I want to to be.  Closeness, which some people long for, I dread.  Because just the thought of a nearing touch shocks me to the core.  Like a debilitating punch to the heart.   I hide it very well.  Some people don't bring that out of me.  But it's all too often I sit in the dark, wanting nothing.  Nothing but for the darkness to continue.  Until my senses break down, and I am emotionless.

Going from happy to sad in such a short span, and not wanting to stay in the happy -- I'm over it.  I've come to the point where I feel I made enough of an impact to now be free.  And I want to really want that.  Yet I feel torn with letting those I love down.  And then the vicious hatred of myself and the disappointment come back in.  I've failed to be free.  I've failed to live up to my expectations.  Not that life is too bad to continue, and I'm giving up.  But I've decided I don't want to continue wasting precious moments where other people can live, love and be happy, without thinking of me.  I know that sadness for some people arrive and disappear.  For me it lingers.  But for those who can turn that switch off, my leaving won't destroy them as much as staying (for me) would.

These thoughts border between action and nothing.  So I continue contemplating until a decision is made.  Until then, I leave myself with these words from Secondhand Serenade:

"So please let me be free from you.  Please let me be free.  I can face the truth . . . "

Much Love,

~Kyra C.

How far (Holding on to something that isn't there)

Questions seem to be what continue running through your head whenever you're trying to escape.  Escape the fact you have NO answers to them.

Why is it that when you close your eyes, in attempt to concentrate on change, nothing does?  And when you open those same eyes, everything is passing?  Except your own thoughts.

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How far would you dare to go
Before you realized you could not swim?

How fast would you tread
Knowing the waves would not stop pushing?

Would that even matter?
If the place you wanted to go was below?

Underneath the surface of your own
Being?  Trapped, screaming with inflamed lungs

Witnessing no panic
But glimmering eyes of passed sadness

Could you take in every bit of your hoped for life?
 As you sensed the frigid shock of water crashing?

Stop in mid shiver to wonder about the deep?
Forget ALL and greet the unknown?

How far would you dare to go
Before you realized you never needed to swim?

Just fall and let go
Of everything that weighed you down, above

Open your eyes, heart and lungs to
A world with NO plagued memories

Just a clean path
Far beneath the surface

Self Faith (short story)

Sitting here with a belt around my neck . . . Not figuratively.  But literally.  Listening to songs that put me in a mood that should not cause pain.  But forge thoughts of them.
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She sat there, with her belt tightly gripping her throat.  Waiting:  for the impact of its snap; or the squeeze of her shaking hand.  She needed to feel something, so she tested her strength, tugging to one side the leather belt loop.  She fastened the buckle and sat back.  Pacing her breaths.  Looking at the door hook, and concentrating.  "There were options . . . " she wondered.  But even she couldn't believe her own thoughts anymore.  It was better for all options to lead to one outcome:  peace.  Jumping from atop the highest point she could reach:  another choice.  There, she would float, gently above, as she waited to come back down.  Down to her new world.

Originality, where have you gone?

I've been away from "pop culture" for awhile now.  I do not own a television, and haven't for a few months.  I also do not listen to the radio, unless it's on when I'm out in public.  So, when logging onto my Facebook, it seems like being bombarded with images and posts of what the world has been up to, and I've blocked myself away from.  Not that it's a bad thing.  But in this day and age, not knowing what's going on, besides checking the news sites and newspaper is like taking yourself away from the real world.  Not originally my interpretation.  But I'm sure it's being said somewhere.

I log onto Facebook, and there's a song/video, which apparently has been number one on some list(s) for a few weeks or so.  Nothing new there . . . And I take a listen/watch the video just to see what the hype is.  It's found here, http://music-mix.ew.com/2013/11/20/christina-aguilera-great-big-world-say-something-video/

I think the song is okay.  However the visuals?  The scenes in the video just got me thinking.  Why is it that whenever there is a song that just so happens to have ballad-like chords, ie. a piano or guitar, there is either a sappy couple, a sad looking animal, a distraught child and/or an elderly couple -- likely married -- where one is on the brink of death?  I only ask this question, because in the day and age of millions of music videos that seemingly rip off each others concepts, there truly isn't a force of originality out there.

Again, not saying the song is bad.  Or that this doesn't work . . .  But let's take away Christina Aguilera's sauntering into the room, while a piano is played.  Let's also take away the piano playing male singer, and strictly focus on the story through images.  What is being told?  What is new, which we haven't already seen?  Is there a reason why duplicating said images in most videos is done ONLY to pressure a feeling that constantly happens when people are pushed towards emotional recall?  And if that's the case, why not just let the song speak for itself?  After all, interpretation is what ties each listener to a specific song or lyric.

I love music videos -- artistic ones, and even some which I've seen done numerous times.  But when are these templates at the point of overly used?  Can't we as artists, directors, writers (also artistically driven) think beyond that same template?  Don't we have the courage to think outside the proverbial box and make our own standard.

They say "imitation is the greatest form of flattery," but I would like to think creation, coinciding with originality is where the greatest form shall lie.  I've seen it done before.  Just lately not as much.

Or maybe I should dive back into the world of social media . . . find another video, and cry along with its imagery.  Besides, that is what the director intended.  Right?
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**Yes, I do understand we've all duplicated something once.  And that there are templates for a reason.  And yes, I also understand their need and also ours when creating for the masses.  Alas, I too, have fell victim of those same practices before (in other material).  But I know when NOT to use them.  Or do I?**

Confused Much?

Sometimes we are at the top of our game -- riding these amazing adventures, and not looking down.  Other times, we are just trying to grab onto something.  Anything.  But we just can't.

It is as though we feel we aren't good enough.  Not worthy enough to make ourselves happy.  Or possibly not good enough to take in that happiness.  I know many people who feel that way.  Heck, I do, on some occasions.  And many of my past posts have been an indication of that.

But still, we keep going.  Some of us.  We keep pressing on.  Because we don't REALLY want to give up.  To not reach our potential.  Yet, those moments when nothing seems feasible, we think we can't.  Can't make it.  Can't survive what we've just gone through, or constantly been enduring.

To those people:  (as "Hallmark" as it sounds) you have to keep going.  And I know this contradicts my own thoughts.  Especially when they continue to change.  One moment I'm happy.  Thrilled to be here.  Other times?  I feel as though EVERYTHING is coming down, crashing all around me.  I don't want to be a burden with my words.  This is MY blog, so, I just thought I'd describe myself.

It's confusing.  I know.  These moments confuse me too.  Just earlier, I was happy, smiling and thinking of the future.  And then . . . out of nowhere, something clicked.  Like an autopilot switch.  One that constantly is in between, but more so on the off position.

You become entranced in thoughts.  But those thoughts are blank.  Weird, eh?  Blank thoughts, which then turn into memories.  Ones that are in fact actually you -- in that moment -- in that space -- as though time were standing still, and you were just observing.  But it's not an observation.  It's you.  It's me.

We are the same.  We are what forces one another to not give in to our forced wants.  Because quick fixes are indeed not the solution.  We are the same.  Pushing one to fight until we cannot stand to go any further.

And then -- click.  We're back in the same situation.

Glue

It's another Friday, and I'm sitting inside my room.  Nice weather.  It's mid afternoon.  And the blinds remain closed.  I want to travel outside, and feel the air.  But instead, I sit here, beside my three fans.  And let the modified breeze take over.  I don't think of things to do -- fun, exciting, young adult, or 20 something things to do -- because that's just not who I am.  Although, I could be wrong.  I could be that person, wanting to dance the night away.  Going for a drink in a sports bar, while cheering on my favorite team.  I don't know . . . I never really knew, because I let myself stay in too much.  I've become accustomed to taking chances, professionally, and educationally -- more so than personally.  Not that I think of myself as afraid to try.  Just afraid of failure.  And what's to be afraid of, anyway?  

Each day continues to play out the same way.  And I'm drained each morning, thinking of the never changing cycle.  At times though, my focus changes, but not on the positive.  Not on going out and trying something new.  No, instead, my focus switches to daydreaming about a new life.  A new journey.  One that's not on this earth.  You see, I can force myself to think ahead -- way  ahead -- as if nothing matters.  But that's only when EVERYTHING matters.  And when everything is drowning me.  

I'm stuck.  I'm at the point in my life where either I should be out exploring (especially in the city I live in), and having fun.  But I can't.  I don't know why.  I don't understand how I can feel the need for a change, but just can't do it.  

I work hard.  I stay focused.  Big deal -- most people do.  And I put extreme amounts of perfectionist pressure on myself.  Big deal -- again, most people do.  I've had the same mentality of never feeling good enough, ever since I was young.  That, I know, will never go away.  So, I push it aside, not thinking about it, and stay focused.  I continue working hard, never letting myself think of what I could be doing.

And then I take a break -- because someone says, "relax, you've been working too hard.  You need sleep, or to just get away from what you're doing for a little while.  Then go back to it."  So I take their advice, and breathe.  But that's when I feel my throat closing.  When I feel I'm losing control.  Each time I take a break, I'm never really relaxed.  I remain focused on what still hasn't been done.  What needs to be accomplished.  What I haven't gotten right.  And what I know I messed up on.  I can't take the break.

The only break, which comes from me, hyperventilating, is what sends me to cringe.  I break.  This isn't something new.  Or fascinating.  Most people reach their boiling point.  And I do the same.  I control it, to the point nobody knows.  So that I can't make them worry.  You see, I worry about other people reacting to what I'm doing.  

Perfectionist.  That's me.  Always wanting the best -- especially for others.  And when I feel pressure piling up, I hide it.  "No worries," I tell people, who ask how I'm doing.  "Everything's great," I push out of my typing, to those who send me a message to check in.  I don't like speaking on what I'm going through.  Unless it's positive.  Not that I don't think people would want to know, and help.  But, I've always found it difficult to ask for that.  To proclaim I cannot do something.  That I'm not adequate enough.  Even when I do think that, most times -- I can't say it to someone else.  

And as the time continues to change, I continue to sit.  In the same spot I was when I woke up.  I'm taking a break.  A mental break.  And one I'm too familiar with, which breaks me even more.  

It's not every day.  But most days, when I feel drained.  Yet I keep going.  But in the back of my mind, I know I want to stop.  Stop it all.  So, I pretend (to myself) I'm alright.  My self knows better, but it goes with it, anyhow.  On those days, when all I can see is taking another route -- a one way journey, I force myself to continue.  

I don't know how long I'll be able to keep it up.  But for now, I'm still trying.  And although my mind drifts back and forth, between being up and down, I remain upbeat for those I love.  Even when at times, I can't feel the same towards myself.  I'm stuck.  Wanting to get away from it all, on most days.  And feeling nothing, on others.  

I'll take this break, and then I'll get back to being focused.  I need this break, and yet when I'm on it, I'm not really.  But, I'll try and keep going.  I'll try, because I know I'm working towards something I want.  And the perfectionist side of me, won't stop until I make it.  So, I have to make it.  I have to force myself to NOT break.  

Because if I do, I'll never get to feel the real breeze.   

Nathan Bransford, Author: How to Know You're a Writer (In GIF Form)

Nathan Bransford, Author: How to Know You're a Writer (In GIF Form): Any time you're not writing your novel you're still thinking about your novel: When people ask you for your thoughts on their...