I am more interested in your fruit than I am your theology. If your knowledge doesn’t better equip you to love, it’s worthless.
…i honestly feel like i’ve reached the point where i have nothing of substance to offer anyone.
i have no trust; it was broken back in spring in a white-washed apartment on a chilly day; somewhere on the 5 between oregon and california; in the back corner of an oldtown cafe, as i reigned in bitterness and pain and resentment while outstretching the quivering heartstrings in my hands toward a woman who broke her promises. i don’t want to let others in. i don’t want to be nice to my lover’s friends; i don’t want to share myself with them. i don’t want to be seen because i’m tired of being told how ugly i am by those i bare myself to the most.
i have no hope; it was taken by this cancerous depression of mine; by darkest nights with the only response to my cries for my savior’s nearness being the echoes of my sobs, reverberating off the empty caverns of myself that once housed a holy spirit; by the overwhelming conviction that my presence on the earth is a mistake god wishes he could take back. i’ve dug my shelter deep within an identity that is wholly defined by brokenness.
i have no faith; it was crushed by this feeling that everything i felt called to pursue has been ripped out from under me. and even the artwork i developed in a time of security has rotted in its meaning, and my pieces taunt me with the reminder of a god who once felt so interconnected to my daily life and so invested in all of my endeavors. now it all feels empty. i touch the clay and it is lifeless, but really, how could i expect it to absorb any ounce of vibrancy from my fingertips when i barely want to breathe every morning?
i have no wisdom, no positivity, no endearing qualities, no talents, no gifts. no insight, no answers, no intelligent questions. no conversation topics, no compliments. no interest, no positive regard for others, no desire to move toward people, no love that takes such energy and patience. no creativity, no inspiration, no passion. no direction, no meaning, no worth.
i am tired.
i just want to disappear.
all the things I could be doing instead of procrastinating, being lazy, or falling into a deep depression and not wanting to live anymore
- kiss Nick
- MY SENIOR SHOW PIECES
- read Rilke’s poetry, Van Gogh’s letters, Anais Nin’s biographies, Henri Nouwen’s spiritual ideas
- make watercolor bookmarks to sell (maybe at Pulp & Circumstance?)
- bookmarks as my business cards?
- pen and watercolor designs on the vintage organ scrolls I got
- learning amateur videography/cinematography—editing skills primarily, not really shooting the footage, but putting it together in an artistic and effective way
- learn piano
- throwing pottery better
- volunteering at Friendsview or Chehalem Cultural Center
- teach an art class at Chehalem Cultural Center
- film photography for the heck of it
- playing with my dog
- hosting parties for people
- doing a shit ton of diy projects
- research grad schools, internship, or off-beat creative job opportunities
- start an etsy site for wedding guestbook illustrations and other artwork-related commissions; maybe for pottery, too (maybe Nick could do it with me—sell his pottery and all)
- draw in my sketchbook
- draw every day in my sketchbook until I accomplish 365 straight days of it
- pray even though I’m fighting with god right now
- move toward people even though I’m fucking terrified of having my heart ripped out again
- hang out with my brother (he’s back in 18 days fucking finally)
- hang out with my mom (always a struggle, but it will probably be all worth it, someday, maybe)
- hang out with my daddy
- hang out with my roommate
- try to like Nick’s friends
- try to stop being jealous
- learn to cook foodie things
- then when that’s gross, learn to cook actually good things
- package gifts in a cool way instead of waiting until the last minute
- try to be a kinfolk douche where I have to make everything in my life super artsy as shit, creative, handmade, organic, all that nonsense
- watch more documentaries
- simultaneously incorporate intelligent vocabulary as well as the modern gangster’s slang into my daily speech and interactions
- try to smile more
- try to still open up to people
- try to speak my mind from now on instead of being passive aggressive
- try to stop living so apologetically and walking on this earth like I feel like I’m burdening it instead of improving it
The purpose of life is to be defeated by greater and greater things.
Rainer Maria Rilke
(I am depressed. I’m back on Celexa.)
rain and rilke.
WOMAN IN LOVE
Yes I long for you. I glide,
losing myself, out of my own hand,
without hope of conquering
what comes to me, as if out of your side,
grave and stark and undeterred.
… back then: O how complete I was,
nothing calling, nothing that divulged me;
my stillness was like a stone’s
over which the brook makes its murmuring.
But now in these spring weeks
something has slowly broken me off
from the dark unconscious year.
Something has given my poor warm life
into the hand of someone random
who doesn’t know what even yesterday I was.