I'm not gonna lie. I'm a tad drunk still, and maybe a little something-else. But I was writing randomly in a Word document, thinking inwardly about being successful with art, either music or writing -- though I think anyone that knows me would have to agree that, although music has consistently been a forte and gift of mine, my real passion is words. Which is mostly stupid, since I'm not nearly as great of a writer as I am a musician (IMHO).
But it doesn't matter much. I'm an introvert, I think a lot about the meaning of life, and the written word just has more immediate presence for me, I understand it in a way that I never understand composed, twenty-seven-track-combined musical scores. They don't make sense to me. But writing does.
And I feel a need to express something that I don't think everyone feels, or understands. Because if they did, they would need to -- express it as well.
I know this ain't good. It's not supposed to be. I just want to open the door! -- and to remind myself of what, more fully every day, I believe I was sent here for.
-- I made a New Year's Resolution to read a book a week this year. I have never read 52 book in a year. I plan to mostly read shorter-ish books. Most recent was On the Road, which affected me. I'm now reading A Game of Thrones, which is unexpectedly transporting me to another beautiful world. The most emotional thus far, and perhaps the best, I think I'd have to say, is The Perks of Being a Wallflower -- a book that many told me to read when I was in high school, but that I think I am very glad that I did not read until more recently, as I don't think I really would have understood it at all back then. It moved me now. It changed me.
I don't know, I'm in a weird place right now. But not exactly a bad place. I have Trent still, of course, obviously, if I hadn't spoken of it till now. He's the wonderful constant in my life at this point, the one thing that keeps me going off the borderline(-or-so-I-may-think-I-am) edge of insanity and incorrigibility. We have our random troubles, but it's... the best thing. And it keeps me going, a lot of the time that I might not otherwise have been able to cope.
I'm still really depressed. At times. Trent's the kinda guy that I have to hide it from, because it reminds him of his dad, who killed himself because of depression -- and I'm not sure Trent has ever forgiven himself for what he never actually did apropos his father. But that helps me, because I don't normally hide it from anyone, and that has led me to some dark places in the past. With Trent, I feel that he makes me a better person. I still have some remarkable problems, but they are far less unmanageable when I know he's here.
But I'm still depressed. Mostly about --
That's really not for today. That's really not for right now. I just wanted to open the door. Poke the monkey on my arm. Tuh-tuh!
Anyone who still read this -- let me know. :-) I have been unresponsive as of late, but I would relish the opportunity to remedy that. If I know you, then you have certainly helped ensure that I am still here to write this entry today. Years later than my last. To continue the story of my life.