Bokelskere.no

The truth is art will never be as effortless as it used to be, not now that people have expectations of me. All I can do is go forward, and to do that, I must stop chasing perfection. It doesn't exist. I can never please everyone. It's hard enough just pleasing myself. Instead, I must focus on giving what I have, not what people want, because that is all I can give. I don't mask anymore if I can help it.

My violin is dead. I killed it with my own hands.
I took a beautiful innocent thing, and I murdered it. Because I couldn't bring myself to say no.
I've destroyed everything good in my life.
Because I can't say no.
Because I’m still trying to be something I'm not.

“Sometimes it's really hard just being here,” I say quietly. I think he's doing as much as he can, and I don't expect more from him. I can't understand why she looks down on people when they're trying their best.

I walk home in a sort of trance. It’s not until passing pedestrians give me double takes and odd looks that I realize I'm crying.
I don't try to stop.
I let the tears fall.
I cry for the girl I used to be.
I cry for me.
It's a foreign experience. Self-pity is not an indulgence that I allow myself. This doesn't feel like pity, though. It feels like self-compassion, and the realization makes me cry harder.
No one should need a diagnosis in order to be compassionate to themself. But I did. Tough love doesn't allow room for weakness, and tough love is all I've known. Maybe for now, just this once, I can experiment with a different kind of love. Something kinder.
I cry until my muscles ache, and then I cry more, like I'm letting out tears for a future sadness. People watch, and they whisper among themselves. A little girl points at me and asks her mommy what’s wrong with me, and the woman picks her child up and hurries away.
I see, and for the first time in my adult life, I don't care that I'm making a scene. I haven't hurt anyone. I shouldn't be ashamed. I shouldn't need to apologize. This is me.

I remove the pajamas that I’ve been wearing all day and pull on exercise clothes that I don’t plan to exercise in. Somehow, these are considered more appropriate in public even though they’re more revealing. I don’t question why people do things. I just observe and copy. That’s how to get along in this world.