Of course it’s 4,20am and I’m awake, and of course I’m contemplating my navel. There’s nothing wrong with a bit of navel gazing if it produces results.
I feel brand new to myself. In a second hand but new to me way. How is it that I have spent nearly 30 years with myself but still don’t quite understand the way she does things or how her body, her mind, works? Sometimes when I get out the shower I’m surprised to find (another) scar, which is silly when most of them were self inflicted. It’s as if my body, my skin has a hold on me and doesn’t quite want me to forget where I have been, the things I have done. The presence of tattoos just disguises the worst of the evidence.
In my mind I imagine a murder scene covered by a thin white sheet.
This association, this visual thought attached to the words I write is wonderful, dark and moody, yes, but a bright light of hope, a whisper of remembering. An idea that can be stretched and grown into.
There’s not much I miss of the person I have been over the years, I am harsh on her, and she was consistently fucking up. Wether you want to place the blame on un-medicated mental-illness or not is up to you, there’s a part of me that still believes, at my core, I am defective, broken, worthless.
But less of that.
I have always known I am a visual person, as much as I love music, it gives me colours, it gives me shapes and space in my mind. My memory may be piss poor at times, but images nestle and stay, still. Again and again.
Although my way of thinking in visuals never left, I had no idea how muted I had become. Soft and pliable and slow. To move was an effort, with each limb begging to surrender to misery and stillness. The idea of remaining still has always scared me. When I am in the throws of panic attack, to encourage me to calm down panics me more, as if to stop is to die.
That I can elucidate this, is a welcome change. My nerves feel alive and colours are acrid-acid. Sometimes nothing feels real but my eyes are wide and there is so much to see. I need to have conversations with myself and I need to think about my photography, as well as a few others things - but that’s for another day. Today I felt like writing, so I did.