Weeks recently have been so exhausting for me. With all the problems piling up I was afraid of wanting to draw while in this sort-of depression. I was afraid that if I accept this state as normal I would feel less human. The annoying part is that I always find solace while drawing, it calms me in these dire situations while letting me get used to what I’m feeling at the moment.
My games are not helping right now so I went back with other venues to let my mind wander. Books and music got me the quick solace that allows me to. And in that minute saunter, I was able to draw (just a bit) again.
Right now, I feel that I’m dashing, face first, into a brick wall; And I’m hoping that a wrecking ball, or even just a sledge hammer, would smash it before I hit it.
While work has been on/off for me because of the project’s “volatility”, I’m left with this awkward tempo of shifting between idle, or extremely busy. Though despite the manageable stress at work, I’ve noticed that I am slowly becoming more irritable on the most random and trivial things. Perhaps the restlessness I have whenever I’m at home or at work, and everything in between, has made me want to stop and reflect on a few things; And a lot of these recollections and epiphanies somehow agitates me. Knowing how helpless and hopeful I am at the same time made me hate the contradictions that envelops me.
The noise that I’ve embraced is still there, it never gave me comfort. And I plan on keeping it that way until it can etch me a canvas. Though it is less aggressive now as the chaos from somewhere else is trying to get my attention, worries from the home front and other neglected aspects of my life are starting to eat up this space. And while I found refuge in circles and games, I know that this escapism won’t keep me sane; It will break me sooner or later.
The pen has been heavy at times, and I envy the ones who seem that they can’t stop from doing what they can. But I guess they too have their own struggles and anxieties that they swim through; Maybe they too feel this warped feeling that prevents them from moving.
And yet they still move.
I am a walking contradiction. And I am the one who wants to be walking but choose to stand still. I am probably going to try and wade through this murky waters and still find myself floating aimlessly.
I just need to move. Any how, any way.
What that direction is~ is irrelevant, what’s important and symbolic is that I’m moving; As long as its moving.