sometimes internal monologue writing sucks

The last month has thrown me, I’ll be the first to admit that – in fact the last three months have thrown me so far out of kilter that if I was a train I would be crashing through lounge rooms on my way to my destination…

I have become this invisible, lost wallflower of a girl.

And I can’t find clothes.

If you know me you know I live my life by my clothes – in a ‘remember that day when we…” “Oh yes, I was wearing that red singlet top and you were wearing that black dress” kind of way – or in a “I remember my fifth birthday party because i was wearing that dress my great grandma made for me and i loved it so much” kind of girl – I use them to define me in a more understandable way, in an outside world that in general doesn’t ‘get’ me, makes it simpler for them…so this really means something. Not in a ‘i have nothing to wear’ way but ‘I have NOTHING that looks like me” way…

I look through my wardrobe and nothing says me…

I wander through shops and nothing says me…

And yesterday I realised why – because the me I am trying to be is not me…

I am black, always, all the time.

I am cafe’s in alleyways and arcades in between streets in  the city.

I am doing something that makes me believe in my talent not tear it down.

I am tartan and fishnet tights.

I am doc martens and converse. I am jeans and havianas.

I am the beach.

I am living impractically so i can live somewhere that feels like home.

I am me most when I am truely loved.

I am coffee at degraves,

I am wooly scarves and winter coats,

I am being loved and loving fully back,

I am feeling so so much and not questioning it but using it,

I am looking forward without dread which causes illness,

oddly enough I still expect respect (go figure – this one really makes no sense)

I am summer and beach and byron bay,

I am not shattered and broken hearted,

I am not discovering that what I moved for may be too much for me, as it drains my emotions to the point of near breakdown,

I am not four hour long arguments nearly every day of the week,

I am not children who blame each other for their unhappiness and being unable to help them see things true,

I am not this seventies flat in this overcrowded suburb that feels so unlike home, that even my children don’t want to bring their friends to,

I am not suburban malls on the weekend,

I am not dressing like everyone else,

I am not hiding what I feel,

I am not soldiering on while being destroyed,

I am not a backpack.

I am not here,

And this is just the start of finding myself again,

But it begins now.

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6 Comments

Filed under acting and auditions, being creative, below 15%, down day, following the trend, less happy side of me, Not Good

6 responses to “sometimes internal monologue writing sucks

  1. Wow. Really, really wow. That is one powerful piece of writing. And you know what? It does begin now… one doc martined, fish netted, tartain step at a time.
    Sending you love xxx

  2. OMG, yes, just what Nomie said!!
    I love your writing, I can ‘see’ you in it. And I like what I see. xx

  3. Katharine

    I love your writing! You have a very powerful “voice” that gets under the skin: keep using it.

  4. that is a beautiful piece of writing girl…. Wow. Just wow.

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