blank white screen

Blank white screen; at times bleak, at times limitless. I like the way it looks; immeasurably luminous but also dimmed with artificial backlight if you choose for it to be. Kind of like life; yeah I’m about to go there. I’m about to throw a metaphor on life your way and  you’re probably thinking “Bye, Felicia.” Sometimes you let life shine, and sometimes you find life lacking luster, only for you to make a full circle and find life luminous again.

shimmy.gif

Well.. its been a while since I’ve (proudly) created. Since I’ve put the effort in. Since I’ve transferred and translated my thoughts into typed text. Since I’ve taken the time to listen to the moving traffic, that chattered dialogue that we all have in our heads. And by doing that, by not slowing down, by neglecting to taking care and keep track of my creative thoughts, my dim thoughts, progressive thoughts, new thoughts, old thoughts, and fleeting thoughts— I’ve felt it. In my mood, in my behavior, in the way I distance myself from those I miss, in the way I make excuses, in my body language, in my thought process, and in my focus.

I feel like I’m scared to mutter the words “I’ve been uninspired” because that’s not entirely true; I have been inspired. By new people, by upbeat moods, by podcasts, by the seasonal weather change, by music, by unjust actions of those I once considered close, by solitude, by discovering new hobbies, by family, by the fleeting moments in between.

It’s not that I’ve been uninspired, it’s that I haven’t understood myself in several long weeks because I’ve been distant within myself. I haven’t  made the effort in analyzing the confusion; in unmasking and organizing the cluttered medley of dissolution.

Being consciously aware of the deserted distance between yourself and your thoughts is blankly inscrutable. When I write out the words, the ones that dance like a motion picture sound track, I undeniably have a better sense of self. I feel united with whatever is living within me; a kindred consolidation involving me, myself, and I.

It’s positively crucial to pay attention to the thoughts running, tip toeing, and skipping through our minds. They foster truth and meaning, trust and fear, good and bad, past and present, fantasy and reality, and the hypothetical events we daydream of, the ones waiting to touch down in reality; allowing them to transform from thoughts, into concrete memories. Official has beens that have been discarded or cherished or reminisced upon.

Our thoughts and actions are inevitably impactful to us and to those around us wether we mean for them to be of not. Taking the time to understand them, or at least attempt to understand them is probably worth it, right? I’m going to go with a ‘hell yeah it is.’

So I’m back again… and this time I’m not sitting in my living room, listening to Local Natives while Stranger Things plays on the living room screen as Nadine re-watches previous episodes, and as Said entreatingly endures for the first time around. This time I am sitting in Starbucks, listening to the tastefully selected playlist that all Starbucks around the world play. Tasteful I say, but in my mind I’m thinking about the song that’s currently playing and I hate it. It’s somber but it’s chipper. I like sad songs; I don’t like sad songs with cheerful lyrics. 

I’m leaving this (not so blank) white screen for pen and paper.

Thoughts have a life of their own when they’re inked onto a blank white page as they scribble, they doodle, they doze, they brainstorm, at times make sense, at times they’re dull, at times they’re full, at times they’re aimless, at times they’re passionate, but at all times they are mine.

BBL, heauxs.

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