free.

yesterday was a big deal. i made a huge decision of taking a leave of absence from school for maximum a year. i'm not dropping out but i think just right now with all my health issues - mental, emotional and physical and the fact that i let myself get behind in school, my education is on standby. its not like i never want to go back to school because i do, i eventually want to get my degree but right now i think its best to concentrate on my health and clear out my system and fix myself. i know i'm going to have a lot of free time on my hands but i intend on being productive but living free. i can't wait to get a job, get my license, work on my art more, read more, write more, take up guitar // piano again, learn to skateboard, take up yoga // meditation and maybe even take some drop in drawing classes. i'm not going to just sit around and do shit all. at the same time, i'm scared. there's this strange fear of just the people i've come to know at school and what they might think. its weird. i don't understand why i'm allowing myself to care what they think because i shouldn't. but i know the truth. its because in a way it feels like i failed myself and they'll see me as indolent and a failure, or they'll judge me for something that isn't true. i don't know. they just seem so sure of themselves like they're grounded and know how to discipline themselves and produce fabulous, amazing works of art, which i don't believe i am capable of. this is a strange transition for me and as much as i have my worries at the same time i feel free. i feel like this weigh has lifted. like i can breathe again. but every day is a battle. as much as i still smile, there's something in me that doesn't fit right or something that's missing. i'm whole but i'm not. i'm confident but i'm not. i'm pretty but i'm not. opposite sides of my brain constantly at war with each other and i don't know what to believe. music is the only safe place. where i feel most sane. even if its just listening to it, in my mind i feel safe with it. and the only place i feel really myself is when i'm alone and writing my heart out on this blog. i am completely on display with my thoughts with every vowel and consonant typed out.

i got really down on myself a couple days ago. and here is the only safe place to say this. i slipped. three lacerations. two one above the other, a good 3 inches above the knee and one on my right ankle. the strange thing is i don't feel guilty at all. and even after 365 days i can't feel a damn thing. nothing. even if it bleeds. fucking nothing. i don't know why but i wanted to see how it felt again. to test myself. and i'm not going to count these. i don't care. i'm still saying i haven't SI-ed in a year. even if it means lying to myself because i know i did this but these don't count. they weren't out of anger or frustration or depression or for control. it was just to see if i could feel it again. but even in the process of doing it it's as if the scissors never graced my skin at all. the sick, twisted thing about this is i kind of like them. i don't know why. scars are intriguing. interesting. and i actually like mine. sometimes i get scared though of people seeing them. i never ever wear shorts. but the majority of my scars on my legs have healed but i don't think i could walk around this city in them. i could do it in a foreign place but not here. because here people know me.

i've been thinking about this lately. about facebook profiles and how they give off this impression of who you are. and maybe its accurate or maybe its not. but for the most part i don't think its fairly definite. i'm a lot more fucked up than people think. people don't know what happens in this house, behind closed doors. the angry, depressing thoughts that race through my mind. how fucking terrible it is when i feel the depression and anxiety in their entirety. they don't know what its like to feel like you're dying. to be close to death. to want to die. to feel like you're being controlled by something that's not you. to have all the happiness sucked out of you, leaving you feeling numb. no one knows how fucked up anyone is except for yourself. i mean how fucked up is that that i actually like my lacerations, my scars? the fact that being mentally sick affected my physical health. to be caged within your own mind? i am a prisoner in my own body.

as much as this hurts, i will get better. i will fight this. because i'm a fighter. even if it takes me 48503852490 times to pick myself up off of the ground. i know in my heart i am meant for bigger things, i am meant to inspire this world and fill it up with hope and love. i am learning to accept failure, take responsibility for my actions, know that its okay to fall sometimes and to love myself. this is a process. it isn't easy but i'm willing to try. and i'm going to be free. free as a bird.