Identity #8: F**king February

meditation-833864_1280

Dissociation leads to isolation
Isolation leads to hate
I hate the dull February
Where happy thoughts drown with sadistic glee
Into the depression of the gray

February 6, 2016

Attending a mixer at work, I found myself floundering for introduction.

“Hi, nice to meet you! My name is _____.”

“___? Nice to meet you I am ____.”

What I really wanted to say was: “Hi. My name… isn’t my name. But I wouldn’t tell you anyway because I don’t know how to make my name public.”

Isn’t that strange/weird? Taking a name public? It feels as complicated as a IPO…


February 10, 2016

Trapped inside my head… isn’t fun.

I find myself wishing to be alone -and conversely, wanting to have a conversation with people, rather than yet another weary monologue.

A puff of air, I feel so insubstantial.

I don’t think this place is healthy for me. I feel like a plant, dying without sunshine or air. Suffocating, stunted.

Exit four walls to work in a cubicle with 4 walls, to ride a transport with 4 walls, and arrive at 4 walls, to sleep in 4 walls, and wake up in 4 walls and wonder what the fuck is this really?

Will this continue until I’m buried in 4 walls. There has to be more. Right?


February 16, 2016

I was once reading a manga (Japanese comic) called Loveless, I think it was. The character, a boy, lived with his mother who took to physical and emotional abuse. He couldn’t understand why she kept demanding he go back to being “her child”, why she screamed at him “for changing”, and that he “wasn’t her son!!”.

He can’t remember who he was. The photos of him, are as of a stranger, smiling. His somber personality and quiet descent into despair- he would go through the motions every day, be productive, and yet it did nothing to give him purpose. To fill that gap where love should live. Everyday he would try to be that person -that boy his mother loves. But he couldn’t remember who that was, or how that felt. He tried to fake it, but she saw right through it.

He just wasn’t the same. And he didn’t know why. Or how to fix it.

Do you know what that is like? To be a stranger to yourself?


February 22, 2016

I hate January and February. The gray sky reflecting a gray world where I wear my black coat to enter the gray building and go to work.

To be honest, I am buried beneath dissatisfaction. I have all that I want to do, yet none is done. Goals to achieve, but none attained.

It’s much too soon to be this cynical. Much too young to be so disheartened.

So. Self. Focused. SHIT!

By staring inward, I have sacrificed the exterior view. Understandable. It is a total encompassing sacrifice.


February 29, 2016

Really, this negativity and myopia needs to end. Time to wrap up this chapter and move on. Enough whining already.

Time to suck it up, and move on.

Is life not 100%? So what? When is it ever? I’d just like to focus on the better part of the 40/60 or 30/70 or even vice versa. Laise Faire.

Time to live life, not just over analyze it to death. Time to see the rainbows and not just the clouds. Time to see March at the end of February.

February = SADD.

Sorry to drag you through the one shitty month I have every year.

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Published by

opalflame

I am artist, analyst, author, poet, composer, musician to name a few aspects of myself. A bit of a jack of trades, I dabble into many fields that encourage the blossom of imagination and allow me to channel my creativity. I dream vividly and view the world through the lens of optimism and opportunity while acknowledging the ink and shadows.

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