Honestly, thats all I have to say. As helpless and pathetic as it sounds, I'm literally asking myself "What am I supposed to do now?"
My literature life is currently gone. I feel empty, like something huge in my life has vanished. Almost like a relationship. This huge chunk, carved in my heart, that changed me, and made me a better person, and made me enjoy life...well, its over. You can see the similarity to a break-up.
But not a brutal break-up. Not one where I'm heartbroken and lay bleeding and have to wait to repair. The kind where you remain numb, and have no reason to be mad. You just are...over. Its a numb feeling of something just vanishing, like smoke. Nothing torn from you, hurting you. Just a disappearance that leaves you staring blankly at where it used to be and then soon grasping for it desperately once you let it sink in.
My motivation. How do I build it? I've been living off these books as life-support. Being cut-off so suddenly could cut off my air supply completely. Even done slowly and with care, I'm still gasping for what used to be there. I'm lost.
Hard enough as this year has been, its been quite clear that I've had a rough time. I've simply had a rough time holding on to my friendships. Not really, but the manner of the friendships. I lash out, uncontrolled because of the hidden pain deep within, that has been sucked in. It finally decided to lash out on me this year, along with multiplying itself with the amounts of new stress added on me this year.
Like a hungry panther, all I can do is lash for prey to relieve myself. There is no prey to lash onto. Its simply made up from my mind, a pain and stress made up by invisible reasons to others. Reasons thats don't even involve others. Reasons I don't even understand. So where do I pounce? What to I feed off of? Obviously, I'd be blind to the surrounding beings, friends or not. To me, they are only prey that will calm my hunger.
But no. Something keeps me going. Something gives me motivation to hold on. That there is something else that is more intriguing than the prey that will satisfy my hunger. There is something that is better. Something that keeps me from lashing out. Sure, I am blinded occasionally and swipe my claws in an almost-attack. But then I refocus on this new, intriguing object. Its keeps me going. It puts new ideas in my head. It inspires me. Tells me there really is something to live for. Its makes me smile. It keeps me happy and makes me forget the stress. It's intriguing self has more power over me than what first created this hunger, this hidden pain.
I lived off of it. It kept me sane. It kept me from lashing out. Its gave me hopes and dreams. It told me that I have things to look forward to. It was my motivation to keep my head.
But it vanished, like someone blowing mist aside with a sudden pressure. I still have my hands carved into the formation around the object that intrigued me. I'm still staring blankly, imagining it was there. But I know there is nothing. My eyes will soon dilate back to their hungry, stressed eyes. And to make it even worse, the stress within them will be added, thanks to the sudden loss of what used to be there.
The hunger will return. And who's going to be near? Who's going to be the prey that my eyes focus on to lash-out upon?
It scares me to assume who it could be. It scares me I have no distraction anymore.
It scares me that my motivation is vanished.
So, I ask. What now? What am I supposed to do now?
I'm helpless. I'm empty.
I'm in need of a motivation to grasp back onto.
Although no motivation will inspire me as much as these have. No intriguing object will change me so positively. None will have the exact same effect.
So the empty space remains. To find a new motivation, a new thing to feed off of, I'll still have the empty space. Just like love. If I don't want to lash out, I'll find something as intriguing. But it won't be the same.
So here I remain. Stranded. Still grasping to what I used to hold. Throw things in my way of lashing out on my prey. Some may distract me, make me hesitate. But they are only things being thrown. Some won't stop me, some temporarily will. But nothing will be able to stop me completely. Not tossed things.
So. What now?
- Title: Purpose
- Artist: Different_Gurl
This can be looked at as multiple things. But for me, I wrote this after I finished the Twilight Series, which calmed me down and was what I revolved around at the time. However, I also wrote this so its open for interpretation. It could be looked upon as a break-up as well. Minus the few sentences where it refers to a book.
- Date: 11/30/2008
- Tags: purpose