Discover Top Posts Tagged with #point a

FUN FACT:

In Underscores' release "Point A", she mentions in passing that she regretted making "Johnny Johnny Johnny", from Wallsocket.

She has previously mentioned that she felt she didn't handle the themes of the song well, and if she had the chance to re-write it she would.

#shes so facts #point a #johnny johnny johnny #underscores #qunderscores

i wonder if theres a relation between "but your words feel like they come from god" and "i use my god given name more than what you call me"

#underscores #point a #music

#underscores #point a #SoundCloud

wonder how far I could get from point A to B.iv without B.ii “tracking me”

#point B #tracking #point A

A Journey Back to Point A: Hunger

I’ve been revisiting old longings—hauntings—of hunger. Of the suffocating desperation I would feel to be seen. To be seen in the way I meant to, and did, exist in the world. Where I always felt missed. A ghost looked through but never really, truly, fully seen.

B has re-entered my life. I vowed to my therapist that it felt maybe best if I ended things (who would have thought that there would ever be an era of time where I could be the initiating endings)—whatever these things are now between us—because I wasn’t exactly sure how I felt, or if this communication was something I wanted. That he obviously had his ulterior motives which he’s still guarded about, but beyond that, I’m finding old things awakening—old things are constantly awakening for me now with these second year of grad school—and it is…unnerving. Jarring. To feel this hunger again. Indirectly so.

I can, and have, looked back at old writings. I, in fact, looked back, painfully, at the old messages I sent to him, still held in the now new inbox chain between us. I recognized that version of myself all to well. And the remembrance of that pain felt all too real. Easy to tap into—easy to find blanketing me once again. And then, like now, I’m not exactly sure what to do with it. Or even, I guess, if there’s anything at all to be done, save to sit with it and ask it why it lingers…and wait until it’s ready to depart again. This time, I hope, in a better state of peace. And for good. One can only hope.

This segues into the real desire of my hunger. X. Who has…continued to haunt me in my dreams—and in my waking. Who has popped up, unprompted, in “would you like to connect with this person” on apps that once remained quiet and devoid of his presence. I ask myself, “why now?”, and feel a kind of distress…but also a greedy little hunger, a hope. Perhaps now is the time it will be satiated?

There is a restlessness I feel to be seen. Even as I lay in the midst of seeing, and being found all on my own. About, and towards my own self. Even as I am rooting myself deeper, firmer, in upturned earth where I hope to build a foundation that will last long past my own mortal legacy. It is inevitable to find oneself re-visiting old themes. There is, after all, nothing quite new in this world. Just visitations and re-visitations of the same places, just through, hopefully, new eyes. But it is so hard to not become fixated on the way I used to see things. To adjust my vision to the new—who I am now, what I am now…what I have learned, experienced…become. To offer myself more credit. The credit I deserve. To let my hunger be and not find myself ashamed because of that. I am a human who craves. But what is worthy of my craving?

So much of me feels as though it is spilling over the edges. Instead of trying to lap it back up, I am taking a kind of joyous pride in seeing myself sloosh across and over the sides. Taking up more space, and extending past my own man-made constraints. But it still nags, “what do I do with all this?”

There is a part of me that doesn’t trust B. Some of that is my past talking, but also it is the present—the part of me that still does not know, not really, why he came back around again. There are parts of me still trying to understand in what ways I have been seen by others…but I haven’t been seen by myself. Haven’t accepted the impact I had—have—perhaps this pairs well with the new phenomenon of my dreams, where I no longer recognize myself. Have I been returning back to that question too? “Who am I?” Maybe this time I can answer it more honestly. Know the answer more fully.

The verdict is still out on how, or when, to conclude things with B. I still can’t quite make out if my hesitations—my fears—are just old things coming up, or if there is more there I need to pay heed to…or if I am just afraid. Aware of the depth and permeance of hurt I experienced, and wanting to move myself, far far away from that. From the one who helped orchestrate that. From the one I told myself I loved, even when I knew it was no longer true—maybe never true. The craving is indirect now, but I’m worried about it directing itself at him…the first man who I ever felt saw me. And maybe this is what lies at the core of it. And that is the lesson this moment is trying to offer me. What does it mean to choose who sees you? How can I take my power back in this specific area? There is still more of this wound yet, asking to be healed.

I don’t want to do this “better” this time around. I want to do it braver. Returning back to this point, after a lifetime journeying around and over and through. To get back to here. To return to the beginning. Goodbye, and hello. I am here again. I am here again.

#thechildrendontlaugh #Hunger #Point A #the return of B #the hunger of X #to see and be seen