This Is PainfulĀ 

Even as I write this, I feel like I am not ready to. 

This is painful.

Two weeks ago, for the first time, I looked at my lap into the path of lines that faced one another like strange figures meeting for the first time. It was so alien to me. Staring deep into its gaze, I was haunted by the disappointment and the fear of overlooming judgment that would be casted on me by familiar onlookers in my life. 

I feared the fear itself. 

I sat there and I wept at the idea of loss before it even happened. 

I never knew a feeling like it even existed. 

Days passed and things made sense to me. The way I sensed things were heightened and I felt the most innate of instincts kick in. For a moment in this brief life, I felt I had some purpose to fulfill. 

In reality, I could not fulfill it.

In reality, it broke my heart. 

In one week I had possessed blissful ignorance – this idea that I had the “fortunate unawareness of something unpleasant”. As everything was happening so quickly, I had no means of processing everything the way I wanted to or in a healthy manner. I took an idea, I wrapped my head around it, and then, I ran with it without thinking of the physical and emotional costs. 

But later on, I decided that the idea in which “I made the right decision” was the best and only alternative. And, to think, I thought that idea was going to make this any more easier…

Well, I did say blissful ignorance, right? 

This is painful.  

I did not acknowledge what happened to me overnight. I did not take a moment to grieve for myself or for the part of me I lost. 

I am not coping well.

This is painful. 

I am trying to find reasons to help myself heal but I know I will not find that today.

I am trying to hold back tears and hold my head up but I know I will be sad and hurt.

From the physical pain to the emotional pain, I am doing the best I can to deal with my sense of loss. 

For now, this is painful.

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A Little Matter of Things

There’s nothing more frustrating than being a basket case of emotion, sometimes.

I want to not feel.
I want to not care.

But, can I help it?

No.

Especially when certain emotions are directed at particular things.

What I honestly dislike the most is when my feelings are belittled by others. I dislike it even more when people expect you to feel strongly or be supportive about their opinions, values, or feelings when it’s a matter of convenience for them; meanwhile, in contrast, they cannot seem to do the same for you.

I think a lot of respect people have for each other is built on the simple principle of “The Golden Rule” and that is to “do unto others what you would want done unto you”.

I hold other peoples’ feelings in high regard and sometimes while I neglect my own, but that’s just the person that I am.

I am kind.

I am understanding.

Or, at least I try hard to be.

And, I believe there’s good in everyone.

Usually, I can find good in everything.
You know, the silver lining?

But see, all I ever ask for from others is that they consider to give me the same respect. Regardless of point of view, upbringing, or wants/needs. For a moment of indifference, I want to feel as if I matter, too.

There are going to be some things of matter that may little to you but remain big to others, remember that.

Think about it.

 

Art: The Fountain, 1992

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The Fountain, 1992
Woodcut, etching, aquatint, relief, drypoint, collage, and airbrush
Artist proof
Printed and published by Tyler Graphics Ltd.,
Mount Kisco, New York

My favorite from The Whitney Museum of American Art, NY.

A sixty-seven color print “executed at mural scale”. From Stella’s Moby Dick series. This print – “abstract forms suggest movement, mass, and mystery”.

Movement, mass, and mystery…

Sounds a lot like my life right now.

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