Or lack there of…

Some would say, you’re a loser, worthless creature with a dull mind…

Rest assured, a quiet person has mush to say…just words aren’t its outlet.

Communication is not its outlet. But, maybe art is.

I had all my artwork, code mush, stuff I did as a kid, etc. go missing/destroyed. I won’t go into it, and it’s hard to put into words what it feels like to have that all gone, it hits me sometimes and I fall apart. A part of you, an extension, journals too, sketchbooks, they were my outlets, my form of communicating my mushy brain. It’s all gone. All I have left is just crap I doodle here and there because I don’t have the energy or will to do anything else. My brain is literal MUSH. (more BRAINS!)

I know they weren’t good, but at least some of the stuff I did in art school showed potential, until I decided I was not worth a damn and chased after stupid men and stupid friends. and drinking and drugs and shit. That stuff does destroy a mind. i have the proof. I am an idiot, and I used to be pretty smart.

Oh, the woes of regret. And being stupid. And lots of things, that I wish I had never done. What is a life without regret though? A life worth living I think. This life is however, as pointless as a pointless pencil.

And somehow patterns get repeated, and then you realize it wasn’t just being young and stupid, you’re actually just really fucking stupid.

I am starting over at 40 and I break into sobs uncontrollably because it’s not as glamorous as a Eat, Pray Love novel or something. It’s actually horrifying and absurd to have absolutely nothing, NOTHING. I need to be a nobody though. I need to be nothing because seeking validation and the seeking I did just was wrong. I used to just mold myself into whatever was around me. Like an octopus shaping and changing to fit its environment. Just so I didn’t have to show anyone my true self. Now, that everyone knows I am nothing, I’m pretty much a dead pan and I don’t have to please anyone anymore because everyone hates me.

and for the first time in my life I’m okay, okayish, that no one likes me anymore. Because who they liked was the person that would bend over backwards for them, who would be there for them, when no one would ever be there for me. In my darkest, darkest hour, no one but their judgments were there. And I know I don’t reach out to people, I know I don’t know how to speak my true feelings because I’ve always masked them. I’m terrified of them actually. To face yourself is nothing like a self-healing quote, or a self-love instagram meme account, you know what I mean. It’s falling apart. It’s losing it and maybe you have the strength to get back up and sharpen the pointless pencil!!