08 September 2011
Behind "Not as Intended"
It's interesting. I tried to write about the beauty of the smoke curling from incense and how it seemed sort of Zen. Since the smoke moved and curled with the air and didn't try to resist. I was thinking of how we should try to just move with the rhythms, the winds, the flow of what comes and happens. But all I could do is write about death and destruction. Here was something marvelous and beautiful in front of me that was soothing and calming and I turned it into something macabre. Even when I feel at peace and even when I try to think and feel optimistic and happy I think dark thoughts. Is that simply my inner self? Am I really just that dark? Or seriously fucked up and bi-polar? Why is it that even when people see and say that I am happy and bouncy I am really quite dark and morbid? I remember during my senior year of high school I felt the happiest and most whole and at peace. It seemed like everything was going in a great direction for me. I wasn't doing any self-mutilation that I can remember. But all my poems, all the writing was so dark and deathly. I wrote about slashing my wrists, child abuse, strangling people. It was as if by being so happy my psyche had to balance it out by being depressing. Perhaps the quote I used to have on my wall is true- writing takes the real inner self and, as a person turning out their pockets to see what's inside, it puts it all out there.