It was worth it.
It always will be.
When you start some nonsensical personal blog you never think about how it could hurt someone you used to love–or still do.
It can make it hard to speak, to draw.
When hurting them hurts you.
That’s never what I wanted.
I just want to keep creating anything until I find some way forward.
To keep running into the fog until I hit something.
To dive into the deep end of a cold pool and go numb.
And I know I have to keep going, or maybe I just want to.
But I hope they’re okay.
There is absolutely no faking this life.
There is little time for reflection.
You have to get in the car before you know where it’s going.
And you will.
// Illustration notes: Made with Illustrator, Pen, Photoshop. Inspired by the 1960-70 Maserati Ghibli. Which is Italian and not German, despite the title. //
I think about how it could have been me who jumped off that cliff.
Our lives were so similar.
Why did he jump when I didn’t.
I can’t ask now.
But I can keep riding for both of us.
And when people tell me to stop.
I’ll just imagine that it was me at the bottom of that cliff.
That it’s you here.
That I’m the dead one.
And the dead don’t care.
That is how I will reclaim your life,
And how I will reclaim my life.
When nobody can make you feel better.
And you can’t ignore it long enough to distract yourself.
And there’s no such thing as busy enough to forget about it.
And you just go deaf.
You’re not bored.
You just want to remember you’re alive.
Get higher, board faster.
Turn the music up.
Forget how you got home last night.
Remember falling asleep on the couch so you wouldn’t wake her up.
She hogged the blankets anyway.
But you’ve memorized the hills, and the ride isn’t such a rush anymore.
At least not enough to forget.
Your tolerance goes up, you blow out all your speakers.
There’s no one to hog the blankets.
And you’re not sure if that’s how you want it.
So you’re just left with that ringing in your ear.
But you always wake up one day and realize you feel it again.
You just have to make it until that morning.
When you wake up, and you’re back.
You always come around.
Just hold on.
You’ll come around to save yourself.
It will level out.
You want it? You can have it.
Are you sure you can carry it?
I’ll help you if I can.
I’m not trying to trick you.
I can be wrong.
I don’t need to win an argument.
People don’t really need to talk so much.
Just as well to bark.
You think people into what they are to you anyways.
If you hang around someone who thinks you’re a loser long enough–and you care about them–then you are a loser.
Let them have it.
I’m going to go be wrong somewhere far, far away from here.
And I’ll be wrong and alright.
We’ll all be alright.
Or at least we’ll be alright with not being alright.
Things we think we know about a person, relative to what we think we know about ourselves, relative to what we think we know about the world.
Ghosts, judging ghosts, judging dust.
So I stopped trying to answer their questions.
Even better, I stopped trying to explain myself to myself.
I built my own monolith in a field.
Mountains from dirt.
Incredible for no reason, and to no person.
Winds in any direction still lift, after all.
So tell me, what’s the difference.
Better yet, don’t.