It's Getting Kinda Heavy
I can't help but think that my chronic disappointment and negativity toward myself and life in general is the result of my upbringing. How many times can you come up short before you bow you head and agree with the universe that you just suck!?
I sometimes can't help but think that maybe the "FAIL" that I often times feel as an adult has been ever so painfully branded into my DNA since childhood.
The very fiber of my being is coated with the heavy, thick, syrup of self doubt and feelings of inadequacy. The shit is heavy and sticky and it constantly weighs me down.
As a young child I thought with excitement , "someday I'll be a singer or a movie star or an elegant ballerina princess!"
The world was full of endless possibility and I was told I could be anything I wanted to be. That my friend is a lie!
I'm short, and fat, and I can only dance when I'm loaded and it's nothing worthy of admission to Juilliard.
I can "WANT" to be an astronaut all I want but chances are NASA isn't going to call me for an interview anytime soon. I'm not a brainiac and my mathematic and science skills are sorely lacking.
it's like this, Marilyn Monroe was beautiful, talented, and adored by many but even that didn't make her completely happy at the end of the day. Though she had the world by the proverbial short and curlies she couldn't escape some deep, dark feeling of inadequacy. She self medicated like many of us do. Wether it's food, drugs, alcohol, or sex. That medication inevitably does us all in when it fails to numb whatever it was helping us escape from. We titrate up the dose until our heart ceases beating. Do you get what I'm saying here? At the end of the day don't we all beg for the easy out? We cling to the things that make us feel happy for the moment or the things that temporarily silence our pain and sorrow. A handful of sleeping pills and a bottle of booze is a hell of a lot easier and to swallow and certainly less expensive than years of therapy and Prozac.
I'm not saying you should run out and kill yourself, I'm just saying I get it.
Sometimes "feeling" and "breathing" and "waking up" is the hardest thing we have to live through everyday . Emotional scars and pain run so much deeper than the ones on the surface.
Something somewhere in Marilyn's life disabled her ability for her to love or maybe even like herself and I can sympathize with that.
I don't think we hate ourselves all the time nor do I think Marilyn hated herself every single hour of every day. All I'm saying is hate can seem so much powerful than love. Bad can easily overwhelm good when you're constantly surrounded by it. Negativity can stand in the way of ever letting somebody be proud or satisfied with what they've accomplished with themselves physically, financially, professionally or otherwise . How appealing dying young and beautiful sounds when compared with dying an old, bitter, failure.
I refuse to apologize for the crassness of my words and I freely admit that I have a mild anger and aggression disorder. I'm brutally honest and suffer from an incurable case of verbal diarrhea. Sometimes The words seamlessly flow from my mouth like copious, hot, lava. These words of mine really can't be stopped. Now matter how awful they may sound they are organic and natural in nature. My words like lava can often destroy whatever is in their path or miss you by just a few inches leaving you gasping with relief that that failed to strike you. When I'm happy I'm really happy and when I"m sad I'm really sad. I feel everything with such intensity that I'm constantly on the verge of a deep exhaustion. I have no gray area. I'm black and white and sometimes often red when I completely lose it and have an emotional melt down.
I picture myself as a screaming tea kettle forgotten on the wood stove of life. I heat up, spout off a heap of steam until somebody just so happens to hear me and removes me carefully from the fire. I'm just a lonely, wayward, tea pot waiting to be rescued from the flames. A Darjeeling filled damsel in distress.
Much like hot water I am resourceful but also volatile,unpredictable and if you're not careful I can you burn you really badly.
I sometimes can't help but think that maybe the "FAIL" that I often times feel as an adult has been ever so painfully branded into my DNA since childhood.
The very fiber of my being is coated with the heavy, thick, syrup of self doubt and feelings of inadequacy. The shit is heavy and sticky and it constantly weighs me down.
As a young child I thought with excitement , "someday I'll be a singer or a movie star or an elegant ballerina princess!"
The world was full of endless possibility and I was told I could be anything I wanted to be. That my friend is a lie!
I'm short, and fat, and I can only dance when I'm loaded and it's nothing worthy of admission to Juilliard.
I can "WANT" to be an astronaut all I want but chances are NASA isn't going to call me for an interview anytime soon. I'm not a brainiac and my mathematic and science skills are sorely lacking.
it's like this, Marilyn Monroe was beautiful, talented, and adored by many but even that didn't make her completely happy at the end of the day. Though she had the world by the proverbial short and curlies she couldn't escape some deep, dark feeling of inadequacy. She self medicated like many of us do. Wether it's food, drugs, alcohol, or sex. That medication inevitably does us all in when it fails to numb whatever it was helping us escape from. We titrate up the dose until our heart ceases beating. Do you get what I'm saying here? At the end of the day don't we all beg for the easy out? We cling to the things that make us feel happy for the moment or the things that temporarily silence our pain and sorrow. A handful of sleeping pills and a bottle of booze is a hell of a lot easier and to swallow and certainly less expensive than years of therapy and Prozac.
I'm not saying you should run out and kill yourself, I'm just saying I get it.
Sometimes "feeling" and "breathing" and "waking up" is the hardest thing we have to live through everyday . Emotional scars and pain run so much deeper than the ones on the surface.
Something somewhere in Marilyn's life disabled her ability for her to love or maybe even like herself and I can sympathize with that.
I don't think we hate ourselves all the time nor do I think Marilyn hated herself every single hour of every day. All I'm saying is hate can seem so much powerful than love. Bad can easily overwhelm good when you're constantly surrounded by it. Negativity can stand in the way of ever letting somebody be proud or satisfied with what they've accomplished with themselves physically, financially, professionally or otherwise . How appealing dying young and beautiful sounds when compared with dying an old, bitter, failure.
I refuse to apologize for the crassness of my words and I freely admit that I have a mild anger and aggression disorder. I'm brutally honest and suffer from an incurable case of verbal diarrhea. Sometimes The words seamlessly flow from my mouth like copious, hot, lava. These words of mine really can't be stopped. Now matter how awful they may sound they are organic and natural in nature. My words like lava can often destroy whatever is in their path or miss you by just a few inches leaving you gasping with relief that that failed to strike you. When I'm happy I'm really happy and when I"m sad I'm really sad. I feel everything with such intensity that I'm constantly on the verge of a deep exhaustion. I have no gray area. I'm black and white and sometimes often red when I completely lose it and have an emotional melt down.
I picture myself as a screaming tea kettle forgotten on the wood stove of life. I heat up, spout off a heap of steam until somebody just so happens to hear me and removes me carefully from the fire. I'm just a lonely, wayward, tea pot waiting to be rescued from the flames. A Darjeeling filled damsel in distress.
Much like hot water I am resourceful but also volatile,unpredictable and if you're not careful I can you burn you really badly.
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