I was going to talk about my inspiration lately. I was going to talk about my increasing fascination with bodies and memories and feelings. I was going to talk about how much I'm enjoying photography again. I was going to talk about how recently, on social media, if they only have a few followers I've been more inclined to follow them.
Look someone cares.
I care, so so much.
I want everyone to feel wanted, to feel loved. Doesn't everyone deserve that small piece of happiness? The joy in knowing somewhere out there someone does care about you?
Except we're all attempting to sell happiness as if it's a tangible that can be grasped and pulled out from under the bed on bad days. Even if we're not expecting a monetary reward for what we're handing out. I'm guilty of it too, "Hey, come hang out with me, I'll show you a good time". Lets go and do this, it'll be fun, it'll put a smile on your face, it'll make you happy. I'm making myself feel sick.
I struggle to be inspired by things that are positive. Maybe it's been ingrained in me to find the dark, the depressing, the misery full of wonder and adventures. I spoke the other week to my support worker that sometimes I hope so much that things will go well and then they don't, such as a night out with friends, an exhibition. I build things up in my mind that I'm going to be able to relax and enjoy myself. It rarely works out that way. I end up heartbroken that again I'm left feeling lost and low. I feel like I'm watching the world through a pane of glass.
Hi everybody, I'm here, I can see you, I can hear you. I'm the eyes in your radio and the lies on your tv.
I realise when I contemplate life, the universe and my navel that it's always dark. My default is always, "well what's the point?", in all honesty, I'm always dimly aware that if it all gets too much, there's a way out. There's always a way out.
I'm coming up to the last therapy session. On the 16th of December STEPPS finishes and I'm let out to be a big brave girl in a big scary world. I get a pat on the back for doing well, a letter that says "Erin has completed a 22 week course in managing her Borderline Personality Disorder".
I'm scared that maybe I haven't changed, that I'm going to be stuck in the default position of screwing everything up, repeatedly, because that's what Erin does. The only way to test the waters though, is to go swimming, I hear that the thermometer was broken and then thrown away. Lets hope that I don't get burned.
I recently discovered some works by David Fullarton who resides somewhere in California, he's created some lovely letterpress prints that have me itching to find somewhere close to me where I can have a play. I love using text in my art, I love the use of words, and visual poetry makes me overjoyed at times. I don't really have much more to say. I made a playlist of music to relax to, you can listen or subscribe here.
Lana Del Rey//Blue Jeans
La Roux//In For The Kill
Parra For Cuva//Wicked Games
Lorde//Everybody Wants To Rule The World
Charli XCX//Nuclear Seasons
Lana Del Rey[Remix]//Summertime Sadness
Yeah Yeah Yeahs//Gold Lion
Foster The People//Pumped Up Kicks