I found this in my journal this morning, and it for whatever reason seemed interesting.
The question is what do I know? I think I realize that I don't know anything. There is nothing in my life that is certain. It's terrifying when you begin to question even the simple things that it requires to make you happy. Shit. For example, my friends who are teetering on the edge. How can I know that they're actually better? Why does it matter to me? Why am I so concerned with the well-being of others?
But back to question. What do I know? I know love. I know passion. I don't know consistency. I don't know constancy. But shit, I know passion. It's hard to care so much about the world when the world can let you down. This is how I felt about my birthday parties. Which sounds weird. But it's very real. What is success? Who really supports you in the end? Who are the people who are there when things aren't going well, when you're embarrassed or scared or unsure? Who isn't there? When are you there? I feel like I try my hardest to be there.
Sometimes, I want to wallow in my little weird world. I want to get on a train and go to anywhere and be alone in the cold seat looking out at the cold trees. I want to feel the cold. Why? Because my art is best when in bittersweet suffering? Because the world and life seem most real when I am alone? Is that why?
I know I haven't been posting lately, I've been filming a lot, and in school, and not traveling. And my blog is most fun when I travel, at least I think so. I don't know what to take photos of anymore, but I love this blog--this blog is weirdly my baby, so... I'm not sure. I guess I'll figure it out. Until then, a peek into my mind a little while back ^