fuck this bland feeling
fuck this bland feeling
ive got that uncomfortable 'scarletta' feeling.
drowning in my own uncomfortable restlessness. its a good thing. i get this way before i explode somehow.
its like diving really really deep under an ocean of muck to find a diamond.
you get so uncomfortable you just don't give a shit anymore about the results.
the choices are 1. stay here 2. break out
ive been feeling pressure in myself to tone it down, to color in the lines, to not be as explosive. but at least when im letting it all hang out its all true.
and truth is where i want to come from.
as ugly or as uncomfortable or as explosive as it is.
i dont want to die ladylike. i dont want to sit with my legs crossed. dot my i's and cross my t's and be careful not to rock the boat.
i want to crush the boat. and i want to dive into the water.
growing up is bizarre. so many people have so many rules about what is age appropriate. what is this future? i won't tone myself down more and more til i am a empty crust ready to file away into a coffin.
i want to get more and more passionate and extravagant and expressive.
i want to say all the things people are afraid to say. i don't want to live in fear of what others think of me. that is the prison we all keep each other in.
the fear that stifles us and keeps us from doing what we really feel.
i draw my lines where people i love are concerned. i don't self destruct and i respect people.
expression has nothing to do with being a jackass. or slowly killing yourself. i don't find it romantically tragic to see people die in addiction. its just stupid.
what im talking about is that nebulous pressure to look and act and speak a certain way. the critic that keeps you from creating. that tells you its not good enough.
that tells you that you can't use certain words and you can't talk about certain things.
the people that tell you what is cool and what is not cool and you can't wear that and you can't look that way and you can't write that way and you can't act that way.
miss manners. the style police. the online army of haters. the cool kids. the worst dressed list. art world snobs. that pick apart the meanings of things and think they are the expert on knowing which expressions are valid. fuck critics.
i have to just rant this out. i hate feeling like im in a box. that i can't do exactly what i want to do and what i know i can do because of the outside world. we are all in this boat.
so im gonna be trying to break out of it. and im ok with people not liking what i do as long as im being true. people pleasing is a losing game.
www...twitter...com/..lindastrawberry
