I used to experience a lot of weird things;
things that hurt me, things that made me.
I used to write a lot about it then.
If I write about it now, some’ll think I’m depressed. I always question if I still am a bit.
I wrote about those things then when I sinned.
I sin now and immediately repent right after.
I have nothing to write of now other than my love for God
and how all those things are in the past now;
but I wonder if that pain is where the rest of my words are.
I’ve went through motions of diagnoses.
Disorganized attachment disorder; a chaotic mess of someone who doesn’t know how to live normally without making themselves suffer. At least that’s how I see it.
Sometimes I feel like there’s a silent clock ticking behind me; counting down to the minute I’ll ruin things again; for myself that is.
Unfortunately, I think I’m rooting for that clock.
Maybe so I can prove to myself, “I told you so”;
I can make it a personality trait of mine and engrave it into my being.
But I try and turn my back against it all. No one wants to suffer; I sure as hell don’t.
Whether I believe my words stem from my pain or not, I’ve found them elsewhere in many things before.
I want to prove myself wrong; I want to know I’m capable of living wholly without being some deep, lonely, mysterious soul.
I’m trying to transcend that image of who I think I am.
I’ve experienced pain; many of us have.
To say anything creative that flows out of me is a result of that pain would be to discredit who I am as an artist and a child of God.
I won’t lie though, I still hear that clock ticking sometimes. But it’s more of a countdown to the minute I break it’s sound, tear it off whatever wall it’s on, and never hear it again. It’s to the minute I prove myself wrong.
I may know pain; it may be what I’m used to,
but it doesn’t have to be forever.
I can know love.
I can know freedom.
I can know liberation.
And that’s the only place I want to write from now.
That’s what I want to get used to.
–Natalia