Nu Blog Poest… the year is halfway done can you believe…?

I returned to this “blog” a few weeks ago just to look at it. It’s like, idek now; it’s Frankenstein. Sometimes, anything I “create,” whether it be a Facebook status, a song posted to social media, or anything that shows what little crumb of Who I Am… can seem so acceptable and normal at that moment. Then I go back to it, and I’ll perceive the content through the lens of someone that doesn’t fuck with me. It’s really weird; I’ll edit it with the person in mind. It’s people-pleasing with no audience. Actually insane.

So, that’s been my problem. It’s been my problem my whole life, but lately, this week, it is on the front headline of my brain: BATAILLE CAN’T GET OVER THAT THING THAT HAPPENED IN 2021. And it’s true, I can’t. I screwed someone over. Like it took years to flip out, you know? But it’s never good to flip out. But sometimes you do. And sometimes, that moment will haunt you because you know closure can’t close it. And there will never be enough explanations and apologies to end it. So unconsciously, since 2021, I’ve been walking in the shadow of shame and guilt. All to say, I hate it. I want to be forgiven by someone or have someone tell me, “You are this (insert good pure quality), and you are not evil.” So that way I can move on.

In my soul, I think it is time to leave Florida for real. I think about it every day. 2020 was the official unofficial farewell but that was, lol, a flop. But I came back, experienced the era of Grippy Sock and the Quest for Oblivion, and am ready, SO ready, to forgive myself and move on spiritually and physically. But where? Part of me is on some Yoda vibe: heal you must in the place you is in. But also, not really.

Coming to Florida 10 years ago was a choice, but I felt I needed to move here for a while because where I was at the time was (insert photo of keyboard duster, court files, and pick-up trucks headed to Flowery Branch). I wasn’t a bad dog; I was a scared dog. And once my mom offered me that single-candled cupcake to wish me the ultimate farewell on my 18th birthday… I took her up on it. She seemed surprised. I surprisingly was not. I was ready to get out. I was tired of staying up all night, waking up at 5 pm, and thinking about killing myself every day. Florida was a blessing.

Now I know just a little bit more. I’ve gone through a lot more. Now, I want to go somewhere that is the outward reflection of who I am becoming, who I want to be, where I want to go, etc.

But everywhere seems to be so far away. And I’m broke. My resume is modern art stylized with space ink. But hey… that sparkly new college degree. I might die in a swamp. And that could be fine, but I need some real revolutionary forgiveness inside my soul.