A lifeless ordinary-Motion City Soundtrack
This blog is now two weeks old and I can't imagine what those of you who have never seen any of my other work might be thinking. My name is Davlin Stewart; I've got five other blogs and a website currently floating in limbo. What you're reading now is the continuation of the story I'd been telling on Scattered Thoughts for almost three years.
You see, I'm fucked up in the head and my heart is unstable. These are the ingredients for a molitove cocktail of self destruction. It also does wonders for the imagination. I take whatever intense emotion I'm going through at the moment and capture it through the power of the written word. There it becomes the piece of a puzzle so intricate that no one else will ever put it all together.
Actually, I dare you to try.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Saturday, October 29, 2011
And with this...I release you.
1. Anna-Stone Sour
2. Fix you-The Offspring
3. She says-Unwritten Law
4. 100 percent-The Forecast
5. Finding home-Saosin
6. Colorado sunrise-3OH!3
7. Empty apartment-Yellowcard
8. Not alright-Smile Empty Soul
9. Devotion and desire-Bayside
10. Black Dahlia-Hollywood Undead
11. Until the day I die-Story of the Year
12. The bleeding-Five Finger Death Punch
13. God of wine-Third Eye Blind
14. Can't finish what you started-Motion City Soundtrack
15. Discovering the waterfront-Silverstein
16. Failure by design-Brand New
17. No it isn't- +44
2. Fix you-The Offspring
3. She says-Unwritten Law
4. 100 percent-The Forecast
5. Finding home-Saosin
6. Colorado sunrise-3OH!3
7. Empty apartment-Yellowcard
8. Not alright-Smile Empty Soul
9. Devotion and desire-Bayside
10. Black Dahlia-Hollywood Undead
11. Until the day I die-Story of the Year
12. The bleeding-Five Finger Death Punch
13. God of wine-Third Eye Blind
14. Can't finish what you started-Motion City Soundtrack
15. Discovering the waterfront-Silverstein
16. Failure by design-Brand New
17. No it isn't- +44
Friday, October 28, 2011
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Epiphany in the gloom
Drilled a wire through my cheek-Blue October
I turn up the headphones to drown out the voices, both in and external. It's in this state that things actually start making sense. As the pen in my hand dances across the paper, my fears begin to take shape.
People ask questions and are then unhappy with the answers they receive. They respond in anger and, even if all the hearts are in the right place, only make the situation worse. Through mostly one sided conversations and lonely, late night drives the scabs of old wounds are picked until they are once again fresh, also doing little to help the present situation. There's nowhere to go and a moment's relief has become a rare and precious commodity.
Everyone has their own answers and directions as to what I'm supposed to do next, but maybe that's not what is truly best for me. The cycle continues to spin and it makes me dizzy. I can't fit into anyone else' box anymore. For the last month and change I've heard almost nothing but how much of a disappointment I've been and the horrible person I've become. And you know what? I just don't give a fuck anymore. I can't waste anymore time trying to become what Ana, my parents or anyone else thinks I should be. I've given everything I am to people...there's nothing left.
I'm not sure what's going to happen, or what road I'm going to take. Where ever I may end up, the decision is going to be my own. From now on, I need to do what I need to, for me. I'm not asking for you to accept this, but, please, try to understand.
I turn up the headphones to drown out the voices, both in and external. It's in this state that things actually start making sense. As the pen in my hand dances across the paper, my fears begin to take shape.
People ask questions and are then unhappy with the answers they receive. They respond in anger and, even if all the hearts are in the right place, only make the situation worse. Through mostly one sided conversations and lonely, late night drives the scabs of old wounds are picked until they are once again fresh, also doing little to help the present situation. There's nowhere to go and a moment's relief has become a rare and precious commodity.
Everyone has their own answers and directions as to what I'm supposed to do next, but maybe that's not what is truly best for me. The cycle continues to spin and it makes me dizzy. I can't fit into anyone else' box anymore. For the last month and change I've heard almost nothing but how much of a disappointment I've been and the horrible person I've become. And you know what? I just don't give a fuck anymore. I can't waste anymore time trying to become what Ana, my parents or anyone else thinks I should be. I've given everything I am to people...there's nothing left.
I'm not sure what's going to happen, or what road I'm going to take. Where ever I may end up, the decision is going to be my own. From now on, I need to do what I need to, for me. I'm not asking for you to accept this, but, please, try to understand.
Friday, October 21, 2011
This shell is all that's left,
of a life I didn't want to live.
I've lost the ability,
to see each new day as a gift.
So many thoughts in my head,
I could never bring myself to share.
So as the time passed us by,
you remained blissfully unaware.
But I was always broken,
and now there's nowhere else to run.
The light from these burning bridges,
they shine brighter than the sun.
of a life I didn't want to live.
I've lost the ability,
to see each new day as a gift.
So many thoughts in my head,
I could never bring myself to share.
So as the time passed us by,
you remained blissfully unaware.
But I was always broken,
and now there's nowhere else to run.
The light from these burning bridges,
they shine brighter than the sun.
When I told you how I'd felt about you, I meant every word. I'd never loved anyone like this before. I truthfully wanted us to be together forever, but now we don't even speak. Seeing how happy you became after we fell apart shows me more than your words ever did. I wish I could just let us go and move on, but I can't. Everyday without you just makes it worse.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Regarding the unintentional clusterfuck.
First, I want to put something on record. I will never apologize for, or take back anything I have ever written.
Now, that doesn't meant I disregard your feelings about them. If you have any issues or concerns about my work, please feel free to talk to me about them. I welcome it.
The following questions have been recently posed to me and, now that I'm alone at my laptop, I would like to answer them.
1. Why do you need to write?
There is no easy way to answer this, and honestly this question baffles me. You don't know what it's like to be me anymore than I you. Me, I feel too goddamn much and most of it is...unpleasant.
At first, I bottled it up as best I could and it became a cancer. I would curl into the fetal position, because I could physically feel it eating away at my insides. After several visits to the ER, the doctors weren't able to find anything wrong with me. Turns out the intense stomach aches were all in my head. Dad flipped out.
Two months into my senior year I couldn't take it anymore and planned to act on my darker urges. Mom picked me up and took me to the hospital I would end up checking myself into four years later. This is when I touched paper to pen for the first time and released what was in my head. I ended up with a song which rambled on for four pages. Though sloppy, it was exactly what I needed to say, but had previously been unable to. After that, I never looked back.
2. What purpose does it serve?
It allows me to articulate the pain and use it as the foundation on which to build something beautiful. Sharing it with the world allows me to let it go.
3. Who are you trying to appeal to?
Well, I write for myself first. On the other hand, this is what I want to do for a living, so I do need to try and get my name out there. I've had people tell me something I had written had helped them in times when they needed it most. They're the ones I want to reach.
The only attention or comments I wish to get are those regarding the piece and how it was written. I'm not doing this as a cry for help. I'm not reaching out to be saved, though I do understand and appreciate your intentions.
4. Why can't you just talk to people like normal?
Because I have to hide certain things in every single conversation with another person. Everybody does. No one is completely honest, because we all have to wear different masks in order to fit into our roles in relationships with others. I know I can't be who I really am around people, because it scares them. It's not like that when I write.
I like to choose my words carefully and hate to be interrupted, especially if I listen to your points. When I'm working at a keyboard it's different. I can stare at my words instead of eyes which do little to hide their judgment or terror.
5. Why can't you just write about happy things?
I've written over 400 things and each one of them is a record of how I felt at that particular time. You can't pick five at random or read half of one and think you've seen all I have to offer. And if you think you've got me figured out, stop.
I write about my life and, while most of it has been what many would call "dark", there have been several moments which were able to shine through. Most people just don't stick around long enough to see for themselves.
In conclusion, I do apologize for any negative feelings the first entry of this blog may have given you. This was never my intention. However, writing it was the first time I felt good about myself in awhile and I refuse to feel any other way.
I'm a writer. This is just what I do.
Now, that doesn't meant I disregard your feelings about them. If you have any issues or concerns about my work, please feel free to talk to me about them. I welcome it.
The following questions have been recently posed to me and, now that I'm alone at my laptop, I would like to answer them.
1. Why do you need to write?
There is no easy way to answer this, and honestly this question baffles me. You don't know what it's like to be me anymore than I you. Me, I feel too goddamn much and most of it is...unpleasant.
At first, I bottled it up as best I could and it became a cancer. I would curl into the fetal position, because I could physically feel it eating away at my insides. After several visits to the ER, the doctors weren't able to find anything wrong with me. Turns out the intense stomach aches were all in my head. Dad flipped out.
Two months into my senior year I couldn't take it anymore and planned to act on my darker urges. Mom picked me up and took me to the hospital I would end up checking myself into four years later. This is when I touched paper to pen for the first time and released what was in my head. I ended up with a song which rambled on for four pages. Though sloppy, it was exactly what I needed to say, but had previously been unable to. After that, I never looked back.
2. What purpose does it serve?
It allows me to articulate the pain and use it as the foundation on which to build something beautiful. Sharing it with the world allows me to let it go.
3. Who are you trying to appeal to?
Well, I write for myself first. On the other hand, this is what I want to do for a living, so I do need to try and get my name out there. I've had people tell me something I had written had helped them in times when they needed it most. They're the ones I want to reach.
The only attention or comments I wish to get are those regarding the piece and how it was written. I'm not doing this as a cry for help. I'm not reaching out to be saved, though I do understand and appreciate your intentions.
4. Why can't you just talk to people like normal?
Because I have to hide certain things in every single conversation with another person. Everybody does. No one is completely honest, because we all have to wear different masks in order to fit into our roles in relationships with others. I know I can't be who I really am around people, because it scares them. It's not like that when I write.
I like to choose my words carefully and hate to be interrupted, especially if I listen to your points. When I'm working at a keyboard it's different. I can stare at my words instead of eyes which do little to hide their judgment or terror.
5. Why can't you just write about happy things?
I've written over 400 things and each one of them is a record of how I felt at that particular time. You can't pick five at random or read half of one and think you've seen all I have to offer. And if you think you've got me figured out, stop.
I write about my life and, while most of it has been what many would call "dark", there have been several moments which were able to shine through. Most people just don't stick around long enough to see for themselves.
In conclusion, I do apologize for any negative feelings the first entry of this blog may have given you. This was never my intention. However, writing it was the first time I felt good about myself in awhile and I refuse to feel any other way.
I'm a writer. This is just what I do.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Where to go from here
A Synonym For Acquiesce-Bayside
After a year spent chasing my dreams, the time has finally come to wake up. No matter how hard I try to keep my eyes closed and convince myself I'm still asleep, the new day comes and with it the painful reminders of all the things I've lost along the way. Now I find myself in one of the worst situations of my life and I'm not sure how to go forward.
It was supposed to be different this time around, no, she was supposed to be different. Actually, she was and that's kind of the problem. I'll go into more detail on this at a later date, because, frankly, at this point I can't stand the thought of her.
Right now all that matters is my life and what I choose to do with it. Over the last two weeks I've gone into a major downward spiral that's made things much, much worse and I need to figure out how to dig myself out of this hole. I'm staying with my mom and step-dad and I can't talk to them. I can't tell them how bad I've fucked things up this time and the clock is constantly ticking.
The things I'm about to say aren't out of self pity and they're not a cry for help. I'm writing this because it's what I've always done and, no matter how much I fight it, it's just so deeply ingrained that I can't escape it. This is me finally being honest.
I've spent the last two weeks grieving the loss of something I thought was going to be permanent and feeling hopeless with the financial burdens I've stuck myself with. It was all too much to bear and I wanted an escape, so I made a plan to end it all.
Last Wednesday I was going to kill myself.
Unfortunately, my mom was sick and stayed home from work and put a temporary obstruction on my demise and I stayed in my room and cried all day. Then she stayed home on Thursday and I grew increasingly desperate, unwilling to face yet another day.
Now here it is several days later and the desire is still there, though I'm trying to fight it and stay positive. I don't know why it's always been a viable option for me, or why the thought of it is so appealing. All I do know is I have to find a way passed all of this.
I have to take that next step.
After a year spent chasing my dreams, the time has finally come to wake up. No matter how hard I try to keep my eyes closed and convince myself I'm still asleep, the new day comes and with it the painful reminders of all the things I've lost along the way. Now I find myself in one of the worst situations of my life and I'm not sure how to go forward.
It was supposed to be different this time around, no, she was supposed to be different. Actually, she was and that's kind of the problem. I'll go into more detail on this at a later date, because, frankly, at this point I can't stand the thought of her.
Right now all that matters is my life and what I choose to do with it. Over the last two weeks I've gone into a major downward spiral that's made things much, much worse and I need to figure out how to dig myself out of this hole. I'm staying with my mom and step-dad and I can't talk to them. I can't tell them how bad I've fucked things up this time and the clock is constantly ticking.
The things I'm about to say aren't out of self pity and they're not a cry for help. I'm writing this because it's what I've always done and, no matter how much I fight it, it's just so deeply ingrained that I can't escape it. This is me finally being honest.
I've spent the last two weeks grieving the loss of something I thought was going to be permanent and feeling hopeless with the financial burdens I've stuck myself with. It was all too much to bear and I wanted an escape, so I made a plan to end it all.
Last Wednesday I was going to kill myself.
Unfortunately, my mom was sick and stayed home from work and put a temporary obstruction on my demise and I stayed in my room and cried all day. Then she stayed home on Thursday and I grew increasingly desperate, unwilling to face yet another day.
Now here it is several days later and the desire is still there, though I'm trying to fight it and stay positive. I don't know why it's always been a viable option for me, or why the thought of it is so appealing. All I do know is I have to find a way passed all of this.
I have to take that next step.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)