Yaya. Angie. Angel. Banks. Tiger Lily. Bear claw. Jukebox. Ninjela. Chibi. Squishy. Ang. Angela.
Which one am I? Are they separate pieces of the same person or are they each different people altogether? Nothing and everything at the same time. Noise and silence simultaneously. Do they work against each other or is the chaos choreographed into a coordinated disaster that somehow works?
When I was 7 years old I made my first best friend and I immediately felt alone. Alone is not lack of friends or family. It’s not being abandoned or forgotten.
It’s coming to the realization that you are misunderstood.
Depression is when you realize that it’s because you don’t even understand yourself, so you will always feel lonely.
I’m beginning this blog as a way to give you a glimpse into my fractured mind. It can reflect, it can slice, it can puncture, and sometimes it slides back into place with it’s partner, giving me and those a around me a temporary sense of tranquility. Like maybe I finally have it all figured out.
Why a blog? Am I that important? Am I that narcissistic that I think you want to know me? Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know. All that I know is that I like to write. It makes me feel like I can somehow organize the mess inside my head and still articulate my thoughts like a sane person. It often serves as a catharsis, almost a purge-like release of ugliness, despair, anguish, and sometimes manic joy. Also because I’m sure Facebook isn’t the right place to post obscure emotional status updates.
And so here I will write. It may be a direct journal entry or opinion about a certain subject matter, or it may be a work of fiction. It may be poetry or lyrics. It all depends on which fragment of my mind envelopes my persona for the time.