Situational Displacement: 1. Referring to or relating to a feeling of confusion caused by a particular event in which you are present but should not have been. 2. Feelings stemming from an uncomfortable situation. 3. The undeniable feeling that you were not meant to experience a particular event, but somehow found yourself orchestrating it, thereby setting the stage for your own downfall. 4. Contradictory feelings regarding a logical, easily explained situation.
*Sigh* What to say. I feel utterly estranged right now, as though I were drifting. I’m not here and I’m not there. I am clearly confused. Many new feeling arise and step up to the podium of my consciousness, only to be given a ticket and told to wait in line. There’s a long line of emotions just waiting for their turn to errupt and grow. I feel as if my energy has been sapped by this dreary day. Easter came and went along with all the happy thoughts I thought I was going to have. I’m not making any excuses. I feel totally base and low as if I was looking up the shaft of a well…searching for that pinpoint of light just so I can catch a glimpse of a passing cloud or hear the distant song of a bird. It is dark where I now find myself, and I do not like it. I am tired, but I cannot sleep.
This year has thus far sucked for a lot of people. So much turmoil, so much change, as if everything needed to be knocked down before being rebuilt. Some things will surely remain broken, part of the ever-growing emotional rubble. Who knows, it may take years to clean it up. It’s a bloody mess, and those that have emerged have done so with heavy casualties. I guess I’m not being clear. I don’t know if I can be right now without getting much too personal. Don’t have the energy to go there, so I won’t. I feel right now like everything is a fucking lie! Like everyone talks and they’re just saying what you want to hear…or what you don’t want to hear in a nice way so as not to hurt your feelings. I feel like the whole world is conspiring against me. Like I’m cursed somehow and things won’t get better. I think NO is becoming my favorite word. Just say NO! Great advice! No! No! No! No! Damn it, NO! No fucking way! Fuck it! Who the hell are you anyway that I should consent to anything. No! You don’t know me…don’t pretend that you do, because you don’t. You won’t. I’m angry. Angry with myself, at myself for being so gullible and stupid, and unable to see the writing on all the fucking walls. I have serious issues. No! I won’t go there right now, because what YOU know CAN hurt me.
I remember just lying in bed with my eyes open, afraid of the dark, afraid of closing my eyes, sweating. As soon as I began to slip into unconsciousness the dreams came, like chariots of ice, with spiked wheels…being driven by insecurities and a woman, an unknown enemy…She came, her looks free, whip in hand, beating the horses until they gasped for air, Lust incarnate…her lascivious grin radiating the hatred she had for me. I remember shaking, shivering from despair, from how small I felt next to her, who was bigger than life, a virile goddess sent from the pits of hell to pursue me and dismember my happiness. For months I dreamed nightmares. I dreamed of her, and she came faithfully to my side each night, to whisper in my ear all the things that I loathed to hear, to add torture to my nights and to my days, and I was powerless.
So now we sit and build these little paper castles, pretending that the paper walls are strong enough to protect us. We sit and laugh, and pretend and presume that everything will be just fine, smooth, according to plans, that I won’t get hurt any more. Then the wind comes and topples the pretty castle reminding us that what we have is made of paper. Maybe next time we’ll build a house out of cards and gamble.
The trees are dark and tall. I wager if we could climb one we would see the path, but for now we are lost. It is a pretty clearing, but far too small to make us happy. We always need roads to travel. Shall we risk the dark woods? Or shall we climb?
Don’t know anymore. Feel as if I’m drowning in self doubt right now. Feel as though the world is empty or filled with people that don’t care. I don’t even know if I care. Everything is moving so slow. Some things don’t even seem real. I want to be alone, but more importantly, I want to be at peace. Can’t seem to find that tonight. Maybe I will paint, but it’s already 2:50 in the morning. Maybe I will sleep.
Everything looks one way when it really isn’t. Every-thing seems ok again, but in the meantime you feel rotten inside, hope-less and hopelessly smiling and pretending to have a good time. Friends come and go like loves, like brief moments when at the end of a particularly passionate episode of dirty talk and sighs and moans and sweaty skin against skin you finally feel the release. Worse than aggression, apathy sets in like a thief, stealing, ripping from you the last remnants of an idealism you never really had, but were ridiculously convinced that you did. Isn’t that at the core of idealism: the belief that no matter what, things will work out, that somehow, no matter how impossible it may seem the wonderful and unexpected will fall from heaven at your feet? Idealism, it’s when you are not aware of the illness. It’s when you’re not seeing what’s in front of you staring you in the eyes, just waiting to knock you down.
[learn_more caption=”What’s New”] It’s Sunday, Easter. Mabelyn.com has been down for two days straight. I’ve switched hosting companies and apparently there’s been some sort of billing issue. This is really annoying me, especially since I take great pains to update regularly. I’ve produced another card for Trinity and I will post it soon. The drawing above is a few years old. From now on I will try and scan some of the art from my drawing journals. There’s no point in keeping my artwork stashed in journals and folders anymore. If a tree falls in the forest and there’s no one there to see it, did it really fall? Likewise, art requires an audience.[/learn_more]