#and making poetryish out of it

[iryght]

When you finally found another artist in your school, you could only wonder.

Do you feel this too?

It's always there, until it isn't.

it can be after that blissful moment, when you finally, finally finished that piece. Your masterpiece. You look at it and for a moment, all is well.

Beautiful. Perfectly imperfect. Not what you originally planned, maybe, but great on its own way. Yours.

You blink. You breath.

Then, in flash of black, the feeling is gone. Gone with the wind and air, with that little voice that says wrong wrong wrong-

It can last longer than that. Sometimes it's a minute, sometimes a whole day. But eventually, inevitably, that bliss will fade. That little scrap of happiness will fade and fly with the pages of your sketches.

Maybe, you thought, this wasn't so bad. Maybe, he feels that too.

Perhaps he looks at your drawings, at your vastly different styles and also thinks, i am not enough, can I even call myself an artist?

You heard about it once. It was shocking back then, to hear someone else talk about the void in your soul. You could remember perfectly, how you thought that maybe you are not the only one feeling like an imposter.

They said it was part of existing. That this was what made so many people great. Trying and trying and always seeing the wrong parts of it and always trying to fix it. This circle of self criticism. It was what made people improve.

It felt like freedom, knowing you aren't the only one trapped in this cage we call humanity. Knowing you aren't alone in this. That this feeling is normal.

But then, the little voice whispers.

Don't you see? That just means you will always feel like this.

No matter how far you reach, how good you get.

You will always feel this hole in your soul, this earning.

You will look at the sun and the moon, will look at your dreams and yourself and think i can do better than this.

You will forever be unsatisfied.

Reaching, grasping, coiling around that scrap of hope like a snake to its prey.

Aiming for the sky, the moon, the stars.

Forever aiming for more, despite knowing you will never get it. Not truly, not completely.

Until finally, you are free from this flesh cage, free in a burst of ashes. Falling in the gentle and wild hold of the ocean.

For those who dream are forever cursed to fall.

Once more, unblinking at what was always there, you shut that voice away. You look at your drawing and wonder what is missing.

Icarus knew he would fall and tried anyway. Only a fool would follow his example.

But humanity was always foolish, wasn't it?

So you ignore the fact that this hole would always be there, you do your best to ignore the soulless beings pretending to join your journey, you even ignore the fact no one around you really believes in you.

You shut that all away and, like a broken record, wonders what is missing.

Maybe some color would help. Maybe some yellow would fix this.

Nothing would really fix it. But that doesn't stop you from trying.

After all, you are just another fool, one who thinks they will learn to swim at some point.

[mattjonesthoughts]

How to Feel (just the right things)

everything feels right to me right now i’ve been writing a lot daily and it’s unlocked a new way to live life a way where i don’t miss things i’m connected to everything digging deep daily in your soul works i’m finding things i didn’t know were there to even look at i wake up and i feel the day i am going to have none of this makes sense on paper and it’s funny because if it weren’t on paper i wouldn’t have gotten here but i am here and i feel it i’ve arrived i’m who i was born to be if you don’t like me, ehh i do i like me makes me want to cry right now but i love me i love what i see in the world i love driving alone listening to the perfect song for that moment and feeling the air i’m just going to guess here but i feel like most people don’t know the air like i do the air is there and it’s alive it has things to say things that are meant to be felt are dealt by the air around us and if we are sucked into our technology we miss what it’s saying i’m still sucked in which is maybe why i love driving because it blows me away from my phone and the world i drive by the same world i drive by every day feels different constantly the world around us too has a mood that changes like the wind it too feels alone it longs to share moments with us i feel it i feel everything instead of being numbed by the things of our world i’m on top of it i know what i feel and why i search it out and find it and more before writing poetry or whatever this is (journaling?) i would be sad and not know why now now i know i feel something and i chase it down like a cowboy in the wild west hunting for the outlaw hunting for the reward i hunt down feelings and their sources and find peace when i shoot em dead a quick draw in the form of a poetryish rant i type and type and type and don’t look back if someone was sitting right in front of me right now and said “fella, I got $500 cash if you can tell me what you just wrote about at the beginning of this rant” i’d be just as rich/poor as i was when i wrote those lines the point is I AM ALIVE i feel alive and you should too just try it sit down and write not with the desire to write something good but to write something real take your heart out and use it as your pen find out why you are sad and then dig deeper find out why you like a girl you know you don’t actually like find out that it’s just because you want to like something find yourself and when you do keep writing and keep searching look around daily for clues to more feelings the reward? being able to sit in the grass with nothing going on no phone no music no people eyes shut just you and the air you’ll start to breath in the best conversation you’ve ever had