It was a year.
So often I had no clue what was happening or going on.
I barely remember most of it, though I could remember more if I tried.
It felt like a year of fog and unknowing more than anything else.
I miss many pieces of myself. Parts of me that were left behind. In the hurry I forgot them above the sink, under my bed. Two bags of fifty pounds can only carry so much. Damn my poor planning skills.
I learned that I really don’t know what I want from life.
It’s funny, because as soon as I chose “art” as my career, it felt like maybe I knew what my future held. How it would play out:
I struggle through college, gaining a degree I don’t necessarily need, yet it’s still great. I find someone, date, marry. We go out into the world knowing we’ll be poor, yet still determined to conquer it. To make the best out of our situation, and make art.
But today, life is a fog. I will graduate at the end of the year, 2019. I’ll finish my degree, but I don’t know what I want to do with art.
What art do I want to make? What is my voice? Why would people want to hear what I have to say? What do I want to say? What are things that matter to me?
I also know nothing of relationships. Flung by my emotions between so many different dreams for my future.
Dream 1. I will find a man, it will be love at first sight. Our lives will mesh into each other’s, and somehow the beauty of our relationship will move my parents to accept that relationship.
Dream 2. I will find a woman, it will be love at first sight. Our lives will mesh into each other’s, and the difficulties I face from my sexuality won’t impede me from loving her authentically and truthfully.
Dream3. I will remain single, but I will create an adopted family. An intentional community, where everyone feels welcomed, included, as their full selves.
These dreams aren’t dreams actually. They represent my fears. They all breathe my fear of loneliness. The fear that I will be only with myself. An individual, singular I, lost in a world of couples, families, communities, who have found each other. Who have found places they belong, who create a space for themselves to be with each other.
While most of what I feel is lost, disoriented and unsure, I still hold onto hope. Hope of better. Hope of growth and change. Hope that life is more. It has always been more, than the doings and undoing of my brain. The world exists outside of me, and everything is beautiful. So here’s to another year of uncertainty. Let uncertainty be filled with beauty.
People are important to me.
Thank you for being here.