…..not even six hours later i got an offer of a well paying full time long-term job with free room and board in queens in nyc, allowing me independence and a way to escape an abusive situation and an unhealthy environment
likes charge reblogs cast, folks, this is the good luck post
the last time I reblogged this post right before I got a great job, in a permanent work-from-home position, with benefits, retirement, and a salary literally 3x what I was making before, doing something I really like.Â
A little musing that I vaguely recall writing, sometime after i left the psyche ward.
“You decide… Are we gonna live or die?” - Kendrick Lamar
And on that note, I will state this:
I am not the hero. Nor am I the villain… For now, it is far too early to tell either or when it comes to the likes of me. But who knows? Perhaps I might stay that way; maybe even become greater. Or worse. By the grace of what I’ve been taught, I'll tell it eloquently as it goes… or rather, let's hope I will.
Mind you, I write about anyone and anything that isn't in fact me. So forgive my reluctance. In some stories, I've already been killed off, or deemed unnecessary.
But enough of all that. Let's continue with what we came here for, and it just so happens that I get to choose the setting.
So I emerge from an asylum. Not the modern day ones, claiming to be psychiatric wards or institutions, but one of authenticity! Straight from the stark black and white honesty of the 20th century.
It's grimy. Zinc white. When you blink, you see its walls glowing on the back of your eyelids…
A place like that - after so long - becomes more than a memory. It becomes a conscience. And let's just say I've been there long enough for it to now be my only conscience.
Stick that back into society and what do you get? A loose canon? Sure. Unpredictable instability. Maybe.
Delicious mystery, and hunger for the inevitable… Absolutely.
To a person like me, the asylum walls grow wider, swallow up the rest of the world, making itself bigger. There is nothing beyond that. And differentiating the good and bad times - well, depends on the meds you're given, and what journey or endeavour of the day that comes with it.
Today, it is release. I've just signed all my papers, and switched my uniform for street clothes.
Now, but a threshold away from the outside, and I still don't see. Or I see half of it. Like being blind out of one eye.
The legend to that is that you see earth through one, and the glory of heaven through the other. Only in this case, the twisted purgatory I just left.
Should I have really done so?
Am I truly in that good of a state?
If I myself am not sure, then how should anyone else know?
Seeing it not fit to turn back around and squander anyone's perspective, I walk so far until the looming building is but an old, dusty box in the distance, amidst a new city of opportunity and chic remodels. I was never knew for the new myself, but one must learn to adapt. That's what I tell myself, as I try to ignore my right eye (my bad eye) and what it showcases shameless with every blink. Blink, blink, blink.
Now you're probably wondering: where does this story truly start? Not too far along. In fact, we've merely just hit it. You see, I always portrayed myself as an actress in my worlds; insanely fictional, but ingrained with pieces of inspiration from that of the real, naturally. I may be a writer, here and now. But say, for the sake of an Anti-Hero’s story, I could be much more. Besides, I already am an actress. (of occasional sorts)
So I get this opportunity - a very challenging one. One that every other actress dare not touch for the sake of their reputation. They themselves are the character. And rather, the character becomes me. That is what I'm known for. In plain english, it is called method acting, and no matter how the methods you go about it intensify, you do it for the sake of believability; for the honor. Not for yourself, but for the character. To you, they are real, and they cross over into reality through you. You just need the proper way of channeling…
And how I channel - I return to the asylum.
If you haven't guessed by now, the character I will be playing is of that particular stature. And I'm not the first one to do it.
It's just been a while since somebody has.
I'm a grand enthusiasts when it comes to paying homage, so I think of it as that when I dared to step over that threshold again, into the place that I've mentally never left.
However, the brewing question, that could possibly be the entire plot to this adolescent story: will I be able to channel what I once was? And if so, will I be able to get out of it when the time comes?
And furthermore…
Did I really need to come back to this place, when perhaps I've already been in possession of what I needed?
origamiaround
vaporwave
andulkaphoto
yousharknotpass
