WHY have I been apologizing for who I am, for what I what to do?
It seems that for years I have been trying to find something I can do that is not what I want to do.
And I have been so damn apologetic for who I am: I try to reduce my existence to an unnoticed observer (already truly failing by that definition), to shrink into a balance of what is wanted and expected of me, trying to change who I really am to someone logical reasoning tells me I should be, but not who I really am nor who I really want to be.
Well, I say, to hell with that.
I will be proudly drunk, passionately morose, absent-minded, illogically irrational, unapologetically trying to experience everything and to make sense of all those experiences. I will choose to remain as gold as I can, as childlike as possible – without hurting those I love – because children, well, they are natural and real. I want to respect who I am, and have who I love, love and respect this person as well. Real. Not an attempt.
I hesitate to say it still – why still so fucking afraid – but I want to write. Yet want is not enough – I have to not just want it, I have to be desperate (yes love, your motivation rings in my mind, always) for it; I have to be hungry for it; I have to die without it. Or I will never fucking be it.
I want to learn and understand and teach and in turn, understand more, the beauty of language, of languages, and show others how beautiful it can be, and how beautiful it can make the world be. (-Why do you speak?)
Because this is living. This has got to be better – being who I am, being hurt and hurting in the process, learning hurt – then withdrawing, hiding, dressing myself up, and desiring to be nowhere else but in front of a speeding car.
To quote ET, on Woody Allen:
“His output in the last two decades have remained inconsistent, but no one can ever fault him for his passion, workaholism, and the distinctive and personal cinema that he brings to his small group of devotees. The most prolific living American filmmaker today!”
Indeed – who can fault the desire to live; the fight, to be who the person is, and want to be? Sure there are people you don’t agree with, people who love to air their lives publicly perhaps – but how can you fault their will to do that? You can’t, but you can be inspired to not be as stupid as them and live your life the way you want it to be.
And well, see, what has trying not to be gotten me (since I don’t have enough life to end life too)? Just the realisation that I have to be who I am. It’s been a pretty long roundabout here, but that’s how it will be my root.
I’m fully aware that it will be self-censored by accountability to myself, my loved ones, and to a certain extent, society. Many memories that remain with me are the times that others transcended myself. There are many ways this can occurs, and many ways of putting this.
Yet there are many others that will break (and have broken) hearts, hearts that I will fucking kill anyone else who dare to prick them.
So you learn to find the balance. It will never be reached. But first, you gotta know where you stand.
I have to know where I stand before editing and self-censoring myself – which is what I have been doing for the past couple of years. Where it has led me is a labyrinth where the key to the only entrance to the heart after all the winding turns and dead-ends and roundabouts is in your very own heart.
This isn’t just some sudden optimistic post. Sure I’m optimistic, but sure I will fall many times, pretty fucking badly, but it’s time I stand up to myself.
Step by step.