The Pretend Life

I paint, write, sculpt, make things up, and don't get out much. Or do I?

[lakatbed]

Depression

Lanore has come to visit bringing with her the old familiar darkness. She rests like a wet blanket over my soul. “Extinguish that hope, you fool” she says, “don’t you know it’s all for nothing anyway?” She turns to block the light. Her negativity is a black hole that I am helplessly drawn to. My dreams, my energy, my will to carry on are sucked dry like a forgotten desert bone. I wish she would leave.

[lakatbed]

The migraine

My brain has become a chasm in the deepest dryest canyon. It is riddled with thorns and sharp weeds sprouting their aggressive branches from the depths of hell. The burning sun uses its rays to penetrate pain into the deepest layers of my cranium. Bone erodes as it attempts to cradle the twisted mass cowering inside. Rodents scurry dragging their gnarled claws across the raw bleeding landscape of my mind.

[lakatbed]

A New Start

The other day I was picked up into the sky and all my illness was shaken off. It fell to earth like ashes and disappeared into the gutters. While I was suspended in air, all of my things and people were delivered to a new home in another state. It was clean, organized, and decorated as only in my dreams. With this new health and home, I had no pain, no cognitive problems whatsoever, and I felt content and at peace. At last, I knew what it felt like to have finally reached my goal; to have landed in the place I strive to be.

[lakatbed]

You know you're talking to yourself a little too much when you call yourself 'buddy'.

[lakatbed]

Artist

Can you call yourself an artist if you're not all analytical and knowledgeable? What if I paint because I feel like it and not to convey some message? I sort of envy artists that feel worthy of the title and carry a superior air because, after all, they are the multi-talented ones. Not only do they make something pretty to look at but also ingrain meaning and deep emotion within the paints layers. The mere mortal may try and decipher such artistry but you might as well analyze a fire hydrant.

[lakatbed]

No Sleep or Money

You get to a point when you're sleep deprived where bills don't bother you so much. Good thing my novel is about to be published and maybe then I'll sleep AND pay all the bills.

[lakatbed]

Coming soon!

A new blog I call "My Life in Cat Puke".

[lakatbed]

What is wrong with us?

Why does everyone have to be so judgmental? We don't know what's happening in other people's lives. We don't know why they do what they do or wear what they wear. So what if a teenager is driving a nice car? Maybe his parents died and it's all he has left in the world. So what if someone wants to wear clothes that aren't flattering. What if they're the only clothes they own or, better yet, they feel fantastic in them? Can we just stop being jerks?

[lakatbed]

Grasping

I got to sit in the empty field we crossed as children. The dried mud peeling up like old and cracked chocolate bars around me. The wind blew softly and held me like only home could. The sun warmed my skin and took me back to simpler days. I stayed there for hours trying to reach my childhood. To grab on to my young parents who left so long ago. Can't we go back just for a little while? I want to feel the air, smell the days, clutch those moments that sped by and faded from memory.

[lakatbed]

Hiding in Sight

Sometimes I think I’m weird but then realize that no one is actually weird- not in a unique way. For example, I’m sure all of our feelings have been felt before for as long as there have been humans. My predicament is I’m lonely but I don’t really want to be noticed. I could have a lot of followers if I wanted but somehow I would turn it into imaginary obligation and pressure. It’s a catch-22, isn’t it?

[lakatbed]

Skin Tufting

It's going to be a thing. Get your skin tufted like a fancy couch or chair. Maybe flesh buttons would polish off the look. Do it!

[lakatbed]

Me, me, me, me!!

Why do we feel the need to share ourselves? Whether it be art, writing, photos, whatever. Why? I'm not immune. I do it. I just want to know what drives that desire? Is it the positive feedback that keeps us wanting more? Why do we need it? Validation? Connection? When sharing, do you sometimes feel slightly self absorbed and awkward like, "Me, me, me, me!!" I do. Like right now.

[lakatbed]

Is That All There Is?

Oh, what to do tonight. Shall I follow through with the play I'm starring in (my understudy would be thrilled if I back out) or call one of my many friends to join me for an impromptu roof party in the city? You're right, the party. Time to break out the booze and vintage Chanel. What a glorious life!

[lakatbed]

The Trouble with Bodies

The days where you’re uncomfortable in your own skin, where your clothes pinch and pull, and the overall uneasy feeling won’t go away…wouldn’t it be nice to slither out of the irritating cocoon that is your body attached heavily to your soul like a concrete snail shell? I think so…but where would you go without a body to walk you around and think and stuff.

[lakatbed]

Fake it till you make it

There is something therapeutic about writing out into the ether that no one reads. It’s a hard day. It’s been a hard 9 years. One day I’ll write about living in a dream world I can’t snap out of but, for now, I prefer to pretend I’m ok.

[lakatbed]

Let me tell you something that you’ll ignore until you learn it for yourself. When a relationship is right, there are no red flags. Zip.

lb

[lakatbed]

Ghosting?

Why on earth would people just ignore someone until they go away? They can’t feel good about that. They must not feel anything about it. They must be sociopaths. Often times sociopaths are serial killers. Don’t kill people, don’t ignore people- it’s not nice.