Here I wanted to write about something different, tho. About what, exactly? Still can't kinda wrap my head around it...
Exactly this is kinda like a (n almost) constant state I'm in; my brain is always running on like 120%, always hyped up, never really calm or taking a break, always thinking about something, there's always background noise going on, kinda like static, and it's often pretty difficult to filter that noise, grabbing particular thoughts and building them into something that is comprehensible to me or other people that don't know how my brain works.
That's why I've never really good at expressing myself with just words. The moment I'm able to grab a single thought and try to "translate"/process it, it becomes even more blurry and grainy and often disappears back into the background of my mind, before I've been able to make people understand what I mean or wanted to say.
That's also why I prefer writing over speaking, let alone drawing. I can take my time to grasp these thoughts and translate them, even if it takes forever.
That can kinda become unbearable tho, if you really need to let it out, but are unable to translate it. It keeps building up and you keep thinking and thinking and thinking and you feel it creeping up the nape of your neck but your mind stays blank and you still can't grasp it, still can't let it out. When this happens and I can't make it in time and control it, it almost tears me apart and my head is feeling like it's about to explode and redecorate the walls of my apartment into a juicy reddish color with bits and pieces of bone and brain.
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| Yet Another Night |
C̵̡̨̰̳̗̮͔͍̮̪̼̖̯ͩͯ̐͂̈́͒̋̆̔̒̃͊́͞ͅo̡͈̖̲͉̭͙̰ͭ͊̐ͤͭͧ̂̋ͫ͑ͫ̀̚̕͢͠n̷̻̩͇͙̲̪̦͇͈͙̱̫̤̤͚͓̲̠͂͗͂̋̅ͪ̒̅̋͒̅͐̈́̓͞s̩̞̗̦͇̘̥͚̤͑ͬ͆̓͊ͬ̄̽̇̈́̀͘͝͞ͅť̡͈͉͔̞ͨͧ̃͊̈́͛͆̒̓ͫ̎̒̋̌̆̚aͥ́ͦ͗̅͒ͮ̒̇̔͆҉̴̶̥̘̰͚̟͕̯̝̲̜͖͜ͅņ̡̜̬̯̗̪ͯ̎̐̊̊̇͂̓̒͒̓͛̉̍͒͗̊̌̚͡t̶̉́̔ͮͥ̀҉͍̫̰̲̦͠ͅl̸̛̳̬̫̦ͭ̏ͤͬ͊͌ͫ̌͛̍͒́́y̯̳͔̘̪͔͔̮͕̯̌̏̆ͮͪ́̌ͭ͐̾̈́̋͗̃̎̓̀̋̕͡͡ ̶̺̘̥̞̺͉̩̫͙̭̱͓͚̱̹̞ͧ͗̾͊͛̃̏̃̏ͭ̋̿́́͜t͛̽̑̿̃̉̎ͣͩ͗ͪ͆̐ͩ͒̚͢͠҉̜̪̰̮͖͕̰̯͎̥͕͇̠̥͔̰͖͠ͅh̅̏̅̽̽ͭͯ͏̨̩͔̟̰̤̲̞̪̱̦̭͜͡i̴̸̮͖͍̼̝ͦ́̎ͩ͟͞n̡͚̯̝̤̙̱͉̣̙̠̱̹̩̮̜ͮͤ̌̌̂̈͒͗̍͌̌͐̚͝k͐̀̒̎ͭͭͬ̎̽̏͋͏̴̛̹̘̭͉̬i̅ͬ̃ͣ̄̓ͧͨ͋͒҉̦̬̫͖̗͈͇̫ͅn̴͗ͤ̐̍̓ͧ̔̅͆̈́̃ͦͥͬ͛ͭ̽͏̣̳̱̮͓̗̜͓̟͕͓͇̠̖̻̫̘g̢̛̭̹̘͎͇͉̖͈͎̪̬͌ͫ̓͌ͦ̇͂̐̔̐̾̾ͪ̐͛ ̵̧́̄̐́̚͏̯͈̤̝̭̜̦̙̹̪̪̰͕̖̥͍̦a̟̩̙̱̻̳͇̜̘͍̞͈̹͕͉͉͈̪ͨͩͨ̾ͥ̎ͩ͢ňͥ̽̂ͧͭ̇҉͉͍̻͇̠͍̟͠dͮ͐̂̓̋̐̑̂̓̀͂̅ͪ́̚҉͔̟͇̪͚̳͖̦̳͕̼̫̥̯̳͙̱͡ ̧ͩ͒́̓͂̉̐ͫ͆̇̈́͘͘͟͏̲͖̬͇̖̬̭͕̗̣͎͈͖͙͕͎̤t̵̶̷̜͍͍̥͓̖͉̠̞͎͍̱͔̦̹̲̠̉̑̑̇̄̓̈͗̆͛ḥ̷͉̖͈̳̥̤ͪͤ̐̚͘͠͝i̛̠͙̲̹̤̼̖͇͈͓͓͈̯̟̖͂ͥͣ̅ͥ͒̄̅́̇̍ͬͩ͒̽ͫ́͘̕͝ͅn̜̝̰͕̞̫̟ͯͤ̒͌ͨ̀͘͜͡͠k̡̦̟̭̦͕̪̳͙̫̺̜̼̼͍̭͍ͫ͆͒ͣ̏ͩ͋̽ͫ̎̈́̈ͬͨ̓̎́͝ͅi̶̧̹͓̮̱͈̲̻̜̙̓̔ͧ̿ͭͪ̂̄ͨ̅̄̀ņ̵̨̯̮̹̣͔̤͖̩̳̻̝̤̺͙ͥ͂̾̑͡ͅg̸͎̬̹̳̮͎͇̠͖͍̩͔̯͔͇̳̋͛ͫ̂̈́̋͌̋̔̌ͤͣ̓ͯ͋̀̚͟ͅͅ ̸̷̤̩̪̗͖̣̇ͣ͛̓ͪ̋͊̓̋ͬ̇̈̽̅͒ͣ͞͞a̴̢̩̺̪̩͖͗ͣͤ̆̌̃͑͟͡n̵̨̝̻̻̦̯͓̦͚̹͖̘̲̤̗̤ͦ́̃́͜͠ͅd̴̻̝̮̲̜̥̟̘̠̫̮̳̖͎̮̜̏ͮ͂ͤͨ̎͗̾̋͐̽̊̍̔́͘͞͞ ̷̣̺̻̟͎̝̼̝̮̺̲͇̘̳̤̦̦̻̋̔̾̚͢͠t̴ͫ͆̾́̓͋ͬ̒̊ͮͮ͑͑̑ͦͫ̄̌͏̷̷̮͖͔̼͕̯͖͚̗͔̥̟͘ḥ̢̢̲̮̯̣̲̪̬͉̦̻̩̮̘͙̮͍̂ͪ̅͛́́͗͌̋̋͆ị̸̼̥͚̲ͫͫ͛ͨ̓͐ͪ͟͝n̷̴̙̺̳̪̱͍̖͔̟͉͉̻̔̒̆͑ͪͬ͗ͦ̑́͌ͤͨͧ̇̽ͨ̏͐͞͝ķ̧̗̙͇̼̗͔̙͍̘̭͖͎̮̱̱̦̻̠͆ͥ̋̒ͬͬ̅̿̒̀͟͡į̛̀͂̐̔ͩ̌ͨ̎̓͛̿̈̂҉̰͕̯̖͚̣̬͓͚̝̼͓͕̖̹̝̤̪͖́n̵̗͎̘̼̹̻̝͍̲̹̏ͨ̾̉̐ͤ͆͑̀̿͊͑̇͜g̷̨̛̮̥̘̗͔͙͔̥̭̖͚̠̝̾ͦ̓ͧͧ̇ͩ̈́̐̚
̵̛̬̺͎̲͍̖̜͔̺̺̹̆̍ͩ̊̂͐ͪ̏͂ͭ͐̾A̳̫̫̼̱̖̪̋͗ͣ͘ǹ̵̜̰͇̻̘̘̙̺̗̦̃̓ͮ̒́̌̑ͫ͐͘d̋̉̏ͯ́̌ͩ̔ͤ̚̚҉͏̷̠̯̙̟̫ ̢̧͎̖̭͚͈̥̟̲͇̱̠̖̬̉ͥ̂ͯ̐̾ͩ̉͑͂͌̎́ͪ̈́̒̕͜͡t̵̸̨̟̞̳͔̝͕͖͙̲̞̭͍̰̋́ͣ̑̓̌ͮ̏͐̒͘͝h̸̼͓̱̟̪͍͚̳̘̪̖̤̼̐̑ͧͪͥ͆ͫͤ̐̉̈ͪ͠į̴̛͎̝̩̹̫̮̰̦̖̦̼̥̪͖́ͫ̎̅̀͘n̜̣̰͖͍͖ͮ̒̈̓͋ͬ͌̂̔ͩ̂̀̈́̃ͬͫ̒͟͢ͅk̸̡͕̥̣̮̰̺͎͙̮̹̥̠͔̰̑̏ͯͭ̃͊̆ͬͧ̀̚͢ȋ̵͖͈̣̠̘̭̝̳͚̥̖͙͎͐̈͗ͫͮ̀͂ͪ̏̓̀͘̕͘n̶̤͕͕̙̹͈͓͚̙̦͖͉͇̫̻͕͖͌̃̒̒̉̐̔̔͛̃ͪ͟͝͞ĝ̸̢̣̞̙̗̞͕̿̔̎͂͘͘ ͚̠̫͋ͦͬ̐ͫ̃ͩ̋̃̒ͩ̓̂̀͘̕͞ä̪͖͍̼́ͮ̈̓ͬͤ̈ͫ͐̓͢͡ͅņ̒̾̆͒̐ͩͤ͋͑͂̒̄ͮͨ̚͟҉̧͔̪͇̳̠̯̗͔̼̩̤̩̟͔̗̖ͅḏ̶̪͎̻̼̼̳ͣ̍̈́͂ͬ̌̍ͬ̒́͌̒ͤͨ̏̍ͧͦ̚͟͠ͅ ̫̤̩͔̳͇͉̹̮̰͈͚̻̘͖̮̖͔ͯ͐ͯ́͐̍ͭ̂̌̊̒ͤ̚͘̕͢t̸̨̘͖̜̪̻̬̣̪͙̲̉ͦͬ̓̃̏̆͐̑͐̆͊ͪ̊ͥ̚ͅḫ̤̜͉͉͖̪͔̹͚̗̞̈̌̈́̄́͐ͫ̓̐͆ͮͩ̈́̓̓͂̅͘͡i̡̗̺̳̱͉̘͉͍͙̟̖̩̠̝̮͈̯ͫ̈ͩͤ̒̔͗̽̑ͣͮ̊̓ͬͮ̆͜͞ͅn̓͊͑̓ͬ͑̋̾̽̈̋̒͒̾̈͆̎̄͏̵̕͜͏̤̘̰̯̞͖̰͍͎͙k̸̲͍͕͖̺͐̽ͬͬ̓̿ͨͫ͘ͅiͦͣ̌̽̀̃̈́͏̨́͏̭͎̤͎͍̲̮̜̣͇̘̹̖͙̘͚͘n̴̙̰̥̻͍̮͎̜̭̹̹̱̮̬̖̻̼̮͙̓̒̆̇́ͪ͛͋͒͆̏ͩ̏͛̆ͨ̓͝͝g͑̋̾ͪ̀͑ͩ̍̒̑͆̿̓ͤ̕͏̻̭̖̻̜͇̪̣̳͍̝͎ͅ ̢̼̖̜̼̲͓̯̱̺͕̜̪̼̪ͯͪͤͦ̒̈́̓̽̐͑͌̆̆́̀̚͘͘a̡̖̥̹̖̱̞̺̗͊́̂̆ͥ͊̃͌ͫͪ̂̃ͫ̀ͩ̅̓ͮ̾̀͢ñ̸̢͙͍̠̘̪̣̳̖̣͚͈̼͇̖̼̟͔͂̓̎ͯ̽͗͐́̕͘d͛ͣ̄͗̃̑ͬ̉̋̋ͬ̀̀ͩ͒ͯͪ̐̄͏̡̢̬̼͚̻̱̝́͘ͅ ̴̷͈̩̯̞̞͖̜̖͍͊̓̌͒͐̑̚͡t͉̼̪̮̻͖͎̰̳̥ͨ́͋̆̑̂̒̑̍͒͢h̵̶̷̡̻͕̱̟̻͖̰̰͉͈̬͚̺̟͖ͩ̔̑ͦ̿͊ͤ͗̚͢i̷̴̢̝̤̫̹̲͙͉ͮ͊ͧ͊̆̏ͫ͌͌͂̀̍̾͢͠ṋ̷̗̩̜̱̦̬̺̖̝̮̬̬͚̣̺̲̳͚̑ͯ̂ͩ̆̈́́̌͒̃̏̓ͫ́̓ͦ̊ͦ́͞͝k̷̵̗̣͉͇̦̞ͥͥ̒̎̃ͨ̅͋́ͣ̔ͬ̅̉̒͐̈̉̚͢i͊͊͐̌ͦ̓̋̋̐̈́̀̽͝҉̡̮̻̻͇̝̰͚͜͡ͅͅn̢̼̩̹͇̈ͥ̈ͫ̉͌̀͂͆ͤ̂ͧ̅̈̋ͤ͗̒͜͡͡g̡̡̤͙͕̺̞̖̑̽̂ͩ͒͌͂͗ͣ͗́ͫ̔͜͞ͅ
This process of how my brain works, with that constant background static, is why I need to draw, why I need to find an outlet at least from time to time. Because no matter what I do, that stuff still keeps building and piling up and if I don't do something about it, I either become numb (like explained in the last post here) or (/and then) the exact opposite (in a very... "bad" and unhealthy way).
Anyway; in general making people understand what I want to say or what is going on is... a thing. It's difficult finding someone who's interested in hearing your thoughts in the first place. I'm used to being overlooked and ignored, or being told indirectly that it's just too much effort/too exhausting to put up with what's going on inside me. I'm used to that the majority of people don't like my Art. They either find it too repulsive, can't/don't want to connect with it or aren't interested in it. Don't get me wrong, that's perfectly fine for me. It's been that way my entire life, regarding everything "me", so why start to bother now. That's what I'd like to be telling myself and actually believing it.
I can't deny that I'm just a human being. It's part of human nature to be wanting to be seen by others, to be accepted, to be wanted, to not be left behind or ignored. When people make me feel unwanted or like smth to throw away or even beat up (mentally), I'd be a fool to claim that it wouldn't hurt, at least somewhat, still.
But then again it's just about that one (and maybe a very few others) who actually do like me, accept me, listen to me, and at least try to understand me. It's just about that couple of people who actually take their time and try to let my Art speak to them, feel something during that and then sometimes tell me what that was. And that I actually do believe.
I mean, it took me my entire life up til know to getting to know who I am and how my being works. And often enough there are still moments, where I'm not so sure about that at all.
I also wanna write about hiding your true self, but I guess I'll do that another time; either here via edit or in a new post. First I have to get that fucking Na'vi post done x)
So, "later".
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