Though I feel hypocritical complaining about my better half's lack of support, I do need to do so. He's finally back at work and I finally, I do mean finally, have days to myself again, after about six months. In the meantime, I've not written anything significant aside from Erjin's blog (and I'm a day late with this). I've not done anything artistic, nothing of real import save to live, and to keep on going despite several financial difficulties, which in the end are all but minor inconveniences. As the cliché goes, as long as there's life, there is hope - I agree. The issues aren't over, but I have every bit of faith they will be soon enough - why ? Because I have every bit of faith they will be, period. I believe in higher powers, believe in their signs and even believe they'ved crossed my path several times before. Always for the better. I believe. Sadly, I believe more in them, than I believe in myself. Here is where the gripe comes in.
I mentioned to bf that I need support writing my novel - true and blunt. I tried explaining I need this support, but I don't think it really made its way through in that thick brain of his. Likely because he, in ways, feels unappreciated because of things I do and don't do. It's a vicious cycle. What matters to him matters little to me and, worse, is counter-productive to my well-being... this is where the artists' illogic comes in. I like to let my clothes hang on chairs. I do, in some ways I enjoy it even, not just for its practical value (I have all my work clothes at hand, which happen to be my home/outside clothes as well), but because I need that itsy bit of chaos to feel at ease. This is my necesary chaos. I understand it would bother another, especially if they were raised differently. I still need my chaos. Do not touch the clothes. It's not a lack of respect towards him (though I realize it indirectly is), but I imagine he does take it as such. There's then other things I don't do, where I know it's just not being alone for months that make me not care. Today, I vacuumed nearly the entire house, scrubbed some parts of the kitchen floor, put out the clothes to dry in the sun, and even emptied the dishwasher. I did not touch the clothes, and don't plan to. I am content with what I've done, and am going to work on the novel some, and write Erjin's blog. Tonight, when bf comes home, I'll ask him to read it. He won't do it. I'll feel unappreciated in my personal endeavour.
I think this is why artists need to show off what they do: feedback. Good, bad, critic, support, questions, everything: we need it. Bf isn't capable of it. I remember, in the beginning, I drew him a Dragon... a perception of who I see within him. I never really got the feeling he enjoyed it... perhaps he didn't know how to ? I imagine I'm the first and only person ever to make something like that for him. I guess I'd be confused too. But, somewhere deep inside, I still feel hurt by the lack of response, and even the fact it's stored away... it's safe, amid all our important real life papers. Still, I feel hurt. Turned aside for being different, and not quite capable to adapt to normalcy. Not that he asks me to be normal... not directly, anyway. I have no qualms with normalcy, just know that'll never be me. My life hasn't been normal since I was 14 and fell head first into a deep depression due to bullying. I could kick their asses now with no problem, but the girl of back then ? She's still with me, and she still remembers how it feels to be turned aside, shunned, plagued for being different. All I'd done was succeed at my exams after a couple of months of absence. That was my sin, and one classmate in particular apparently couldn't digest it. Still, this is a long time ago, and much water has passed beneath the bridge. But I remember. I'll always remember, and always fight injustice, wherever I encounter it. This is the blessing I've received from making it through the desert, so to speak. But a weakness as well, for without even but one person to believe in me, I give up, and start tagging along the nearest lifeline. Because I don't dare shutting myself out to do what I believe is important, for myself. If I shut myself out, I might not be able, or even want, to return.
I have several characters who are immortal. It's difficult to get into their heads, because it means letting go of the self-awareness that I, am mortal. I nearly manage to, freak out, then stop. It's a feeling of absoluteness, of existence without outside influence: power, possibility. Solitude. It's comparable in intensity. Terrifying, but also quite exhilirating. There was a time I had no personality. I created it, bits and pieces through roleplaying. I created characters, who grew and gained personality, and discovered my own through them, for better or worse. I've since glued the pieces together, which has made it harder to focus on the characters, for I need to tear down what I've built. This is where I need bf to understand how and why I need his support: to stay whole, even fragmented. I'm a terrible person when it comes down to showing love, but I also know the importance he has in my life, the necesity he has become for me to be... well, me. Perhaps I should try and explain this sometime, but... he already knows I'm crazy, let's not add to it. Besides, I'm not sure he could understand... I don't think I understand it all, either. All I know is: it's hard. I know what I want, I know what I need, yet I can't seem to get quite there.
Oh well. I should start writing. Farren's a bitch. For one chapter of novel, I need to figure out tons of intertwined information. It's nuts. And yet I enjoy it. Blegh!
No comments:
Post a Comment