This morning, I woke up to the sound of my roommate bustling around the room as she got ready for her class. I lied in bed, my eyes feeling strangely light as my normal tiredness wasn't wearing me down. I still had another 2 or so hours until my alarm was supposed to ring, but I remained motionless. I felt no need to go back to sleep and had no energy to get out of bed. I just lied there. Motionless. Emotionless. Nothing running through my head. Just still.
As I left Saturday morning with my brother and my mom to catch my noon flight, I kept telling myself, "Hold yourself together Rachel. You were a wreck last time you left home. You're not gonna break down now. Not now." It almost makes me laugh how sentimental I get. Have you ever heard of sentimentality being a disease? I remember as senior year was coming to a close, Ms. Strandberg--my Kairos 43 team leader--asked me how I was feeling about the end of the year coming. I told her that I wasn't ready to leave and wouldn't know what to do after graduation. She replied, "Do you get really sentimental? ... I was like that too. Just enjoy every last moment."
As the flight attendant greeted me with a warm hello, I smiled at her and said hello back. As I searched for a seat, I clumsily stuffed my big bulky guitar in the overhead carry-on (awkwardly, having some trouble) and was no longer enthused to continue a conversation with this elder man reading a book to my left, and a fellow UCI student to my right. I took out Faust--the book I was supposed to read for Winter Reading--and got a good long hour of reading. I think it's good to note that one thing I've always disliked was disclosing oneself off from the world in a social setting (i.e. listening to music while walking around campus, reading or writing in front of other people--this whole thing about setting yourself apart from people rather than wholly being there in the present).
I think the longer and longer I am here, the more and more impatient I've become. I'm losing motivation, and it scares me. Have you ever heard the saying that "all artists are introverts"? Now, I usually keep my spirits up by surrounding myself with lovely people. I've said before that I "thrive off of social connection", and it's true--nothing's more terrifying than loneliness. Lately, I've been finding it hard to keep up interactions. My head begins to throb and I feel as if people are sucking the life out of me. It sounds terribly depressing to say, but I can tell you I haven't had this feeling since I was a junior in high school. I don't want to say I'm regressing just yet, because it scares me, but I feel myself losing myself a little. It's almost like I constantly feel the need to escape and resort back to my room with a nice journal and music playing in the background. But as I am doing that right now, it hurts me. The music hurts me. It haunts me. Because at this very moment, I know that that is what I want to be doing. That that is what I should be doing. But, instead, I'm here. Lying still. Motionless. Ejecting ideas out of my head in hopes something can be made of it.
I look to my wall on my right and I stare at posters and passages of what people have said about me. From Kairos affirmations before and after leading Kairos, to notes from anonymous people praising and loving who I've become, and a note from a loved one reminding me how much love I can be capable of giving and receiving... I see all the highs from my senior year of good times with my best friend, old friends, Kairos-mates, family, and Kariktan... The "high" times that I've been feeling a bit deprived from. But, when I look at that wall I'm reminded of what I've learned from all of that. That that Love is always there. Feelings, moments, and experiences like that never go away: you can relive those moments, just not in the same scenarios. I once was like that at a moment in my life, and I can have that same familial feeling of Happiness. I can't keep feeling tired and uninspired for too long: it's all just a passing phase-- But, is it just a phase if these ideas constantly haunt me from time to time? The same things, just felt at different degrees, levels, and times? Sometimes, it's as if it were a voice passing with the wind, and other times it feels like a waterfall pouring out of my body. But, it's still that same thing that I've always wanted and needed. My disturbed soul is coming to the forefront again-- I'm acknowledging all of my insecurities, doubts, and disturbances all at the same time. It's healthy to some degree, but unhealthy when it causes me to feel as if life is being sucked out of me, and things that used to make me happy just don't seem to feel the same.
My second quarter. My best friend told me how she went through her second quarter fairly rough. Seeing to it as that we always seem to be living our lives in parallel, I've a feeling mine will turn out to be fairly similar. This will be a long quarter. I already know it.
~
The more and more I analyze these works of art, the more and more I feel as if "I've done this already" and I'm living my life in "repeated motion". I guess I've grown tired of it. I've always been a drifting soul-- someone who always wanted more than what she had, which, in turn, has caused me to take some things for granted. Albeit, I've work to do in myself, but I'm one of those people who will never be okay with settling with something else rather than her passion. Her art. I'm one of those people who need it to breathe, and everything else just seems to be a distraction. I need to feel secure in that I am working towards something I will be happy about--of worth. As much as I am thrown, showered in, and given all the love and care in the world, I become nothing without my Art. I need to feel as if I'm constantly growing and improving. That my life lives a purpose. And for one who has always been so focused on creating healthy atmospheres with friends with no conflict whatsoever, and making sure they feel the love they need to feel when they need it, it's all gone in the past days.
~
In a place where everyone becomes a Nobody and you feel no less significant, the artist suffocates. That is why the artist is the introvert: It's all in the head. I've always believed all of the best art is felt.
These moments remind me that I'm alive. Why I'm alive. It brings me back to the beginning and root of my existence: "Without suffering there would be no compassion."
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