a short exercise

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i've started to come to a terrible realization; there will always be checks and balances. it seems i have to sacrifice my creativity for happiness. can i really only write when i'm sad or ashamed or torn up about something? does all great art have to come from the scraps after you've been torn to shreds?

i've been feeling a great amount of fear, recently. moments that have required me to be brave are poisoned with secrecy and neglect. i wish to remain cryptic and nondescript even though it's futile. i'm learning apathy and anxiety at the same time. i wonder if i've begun reading so much more because i'm desperate for someone else to give me answers to questions i didn't know i could have. my arms seem to be locked in this half-raised position, where you're working up the courage to say something, and you lock eyes with the professor and resolve to scratching the back of your head like that's what you intended to do all along.

i've said too much and felt too much. where does strength even come from, in the first place? i recently had a conversation that made me start to weigh the pros and cons of weakness. 2025 has been the most challenging of my life, but in moments of rationalizing, i tell myself it's the consequence of being 22. i've only ever valued complexity and complications because i fail to see value in something, but really myself, if it can't be analyzed deeply. things must be deep, but i think that line of thinking has placed me in shallow pools. 

one of the biggest alterations to life approaches i've come to practice is letting things pass. i fight and push things away with a forceful insurgence the second i'm uncomfortable, and maybe it's just a  learned response after feeling so ill for so many months. the only thing that makes anything go away is the resolve to sit with it. you have to let it pass. during that waiting game, when all i can think about it the fact that i'm about to throw up (yet never do), i learned there is strength in weakness. letting things be is quite alright.

i hate to be so pessimistic, but i'm not sure it's possible to truly get exactly what you want. fuck you, mick jagger. 

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