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a transparent conversation.

December 7, 2018

Alright, I’m going to be transparent with you all today. No hard to understand rhetorical devices, no intentional motives. Just raw. I am tired. Introverts often gain energy from being alone and lose it from being surrounded by different people with different energies. Lately, I've been feeling like I am being pulled like salt-water taffy in every single direction.

 

The direction of my grades mattering more than my skill and passion.

 

The direction of colleges not wanting me.

 

The direction of high school problems that bore and amuse me as they are simultaneously are hurled at me.

 

And they hurt.

 

But my skin is tough as steel. I feel like a mad woman as I laugh crazily at the way high school, in its entirety, works. Like I find it ridiculous how the administration and school board handle certain situations. Like how my shoulders and my belly button being seen represents a distraction and is inappropriate, but there are testing scores are vastly declining and high school dropout rates increasing. Or how my body being shown is seen as unprofessional and "ghetto", but girls who don't have the same curvy build such as myself are viewed as just fine. But, that is another topic for a different article.And then there is the direction of being an artist. The only direction I truly feel content about.

 

Being an artist, especially at my age, is beyond demanding. I am a writer. Writing is my first love. But I also act, model, make music, dance, paint, sketch, speak, and live the life of a fast-moving and evolving creative artist.

 

Of course, like I said before, I am tired. I just feel so done. With school, with people, my hometown. All of it. And there is nothing wrong with anyone those things, it is literally just me. I can't handle it anymore. I find myself sitting in the classroom and just giving up. I get so angry and overwhelmed. Then,  I feel like the room is swallowing me whole. Just as if I am suffocating and gasping for air. Then, I give in to the gloomy cloud that sinks into my skin and I throw my hands up in surrender. I have never felt more defeated than I do this school year.

 

So, I've been putting my all into my artistry.

 

Oh, how I love my God-given artistry.

 

I've been filling up my resume with experience, my portfolio with my art, and my mind with knowledge that is going to propel me forward as a person and as an artist. My dream school, The New School in New York City (that is also another article for another day), is more skill based rather than numbers and test scores. But just thinking about how far fall of 2020, how rare full-ride scholarships are, and just self doubt in general makes me revert back into the ball I used to survive in before I found my confidence. I could go on for hours and hours about my anxiety and how life is hard for me, but I feel like there is no point to truly hid behind that. I don't like writing about my dreams because there is so much anger I hold towards my future. Does that make sense? It's ok, it's not supposed to.

 

I am tired. My mind seems a bit toxic. Not because I am corrupt or broken. Which, I might be. At this point, I feel numb to it even if I am. But my mind is corrupt because I've been exposed to so much, seen so much, and been through some pretty ripe stuff. My mind is toxic because I overthink. It's my biggest enemy. How can you fight when the villain in your story is your mind? Like, how can you be there heroine of a story that has no true happy ending? It seems impossible to separate the person from the mind.

 

But, I am tired. I am tired of waiting for my life to begin. I feel like I am walking slowly through the rest of the years of my adolescences. All in an inpatient frenzy of waiting. Countless and drawn-out waiting. New York is waiting for me, I just know it. I belong there. My heart has never felt so desperate to be somewhere like it has been for New York. 

 

Oh, and boys suck. 

 

Birds make me nervous.

 

I feel like I am falling a part. 

 

But, I am not broken just yet. 

 

I can still walk and breath. And that means, I am still more than capable of being the person I am meant to be.

 

And that, that is more than enough.

 

 

Phew! My brain was rushing a mile a minute writing this. As it came to me, I wrote. Nothing to drawn out or planned. Just raw. And I am proud of that. That I could let go of any pressure I was feeling and write a piece that freed me emotionally. Thank you so much for putting up with this conversational style rant. The reason I wrote this is because I know people can relate to the feeling of being stretched and their mind being all over the place. I also wrote this for me. Maybe, one day, I will open up and write about some of the topics that a barely touched on as they rushed into my brain just as fast as they left. But, as for right now, transparency is bliss. And don't you guys ever forget that.

 

 

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