dot fucking dot dot

April 7, 2010 § Leave a comment

I am beginning to get a familiar pain in my gut, as if someone punched me down to crumble me apart, and maybe it’s the boy, maybe it’s the weather, maybe it’s the songs in my head and maybe it’s neither.

And I’m looking for an answer everywhere to solve this issue, but I cannot find it. My writings have gone to a dark cave and the images I see are no longer making me smile. I am still dealing with an impecable identity crisis, trying to figure out who my audience is. What language do I speak? Which language I think? How fucking terrifying it is to acknowledge that you are naked in front of millions, or rather, the internet, and you are still unable to find your true voice because it’s been splitted into two.

The one that drinks margaritas, and the one that slaps the box of wine till it’s finished. The one that talks till the sunrises, and the one that doesn’t. The one that has been pushed inside a box and is trying to see through two small holes, and the one that bared it all for everyone to see. The one that has dedicated a life to performance art and the one that is too shy to do anything about it.

Things will unroll, once the time comes. I shall find my voice and my audience, surely. But in the meantime, I have fallen to a confused, vigilant state where I am surrounded by passion and happyness yet I find myself responding to neither.

The hair color change helped a little, though.

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