the other day when i was tripping:
i had a peice of paper and i was drawing like a mad woman, and then when i could bring myself to write, i did...
i was caught up in thinking about people, and how complex and individual is...
how there is so much that makes a person the way they are. from the way they were raised, and events and circumstances that shaped their life, the people that shaped them, their culture and ethnicity.. and it goes on and on.
i thought it was so beautiful. the individual is so beautiful.
i was thinking about how words, or at least my vernacular, is lacking...
and we try so hard to be able to describe and define things with language.
i don't possess the vocabulary or skill to ever put an individual into words.
on top of that, i have never known anyone to the fullest extent. not even my parents. i don't know the circumstances or events that shaped them into who they are. i only know about what they have shared with me. i've only known them for the 19 years of my existence.
shit, i really don't even know / understand myself fully.
i came to accept only a person's name can define them.
"you can love them, you can hate them, but you don't own them, so you don't know them."
then i went onto thinking about art.... how almost everything is art.
i said "our hearts can only fit so much. we have to make sense of how we feel. we can't keep it in. we must make sense of emotions. through verbiage, art, music... to expose to the world. in hope of acceptance, appreciation, and someone who feels/felt it too."
like who writes songs and keeps it to themselves for their own personal enjoyment?
why even write it down? the only reason why you would keep a song to yourself is if you are afraid of other people's judgement, or if you are simply shy.
making art is therapeutic, in the sense that once you physically write about it, draw it, photograph it, etc, it's no longer brewing in your head. how you feel about something is captured - maybe not to the fullest potential that you anticipated or would like, but it's there, in the flesh. but subconsciously don't you wish someone else would see it and appreciate it and be like "wow i feel that, too"
people are naturally curious, and typically want a reasoning and explanation for everything. we want to figure things out.
but who is to say whether something is correct, if you don't have someone besides yourself to verify that.
i guess opinions are never factual. but you'd have to be blatantly illogical to have an opinion no one else in the world can agree with...
"i love you so much, i want to
you, and share you with the world. to appreciate, accept, feel, and understand, too."
i was referencing friends/lovely people, vistas, thoughts/feelings...
has anyone ever created anything without a purpose? well. i guess that would be dada art, huh. but they had an underlying cause too.
i hope that made some sense.
i also got really pissed at myself cause i was trying to put my thoughts into words and i thought i couldn't. i then wrote "I can't. I can't. It'd be easier to feel nothing at all."
i also realized how much i love florence + the machine.
"Never let me go" made me literally bawl my eyes out.
florence welsh is a fantastic human.
and my trip was amazing until my friend told me i danced like a mom.
then i couldn't stop crying.
in a bad way. and made myself go to bed cause i couldn't stop fixating over it.
