In Which: My commitment is fleeting

....Surprise! 

*eyeroll*

And so I embarked upon this journey in which I intended to pen a wonderfully creative account of my experiences during the great isolation of 2020, but........ That didn't quite happen, did it. 

Let's be honest, here. Over the years - particularly those experienced throughout my twenties - I have made numerous attempts at starting and restarting various online journals. But somehow I never manage to stick to them. Inspiration strikes, as it has done tonight, and I find myself sitting before whatever technological device it may be (Note: Right now, it's a laptop), creativity flowing through my fingertips like it used to do in times past...... yet it always seems to fade away. Creativity is not as frequent as it once was, it can lay dormant for years, and upon such rare occasions as these it emerges in an explosion of nonsensical word-vomit. Just. Like. This.

So what - I wonder - helps one to tap into such creativity on a regular basis? Or are these the struggles we face once we become fully-fledged adults? A chaotic assortment of sporadic thoughts and feelings...

I'm rambling, but I don't care. 

The Shitshow (TM) is very much still a thing. I had my heart broken many times this year, but I am still fucking going. And now, thankfully, I have found someone special to help me rebuild... but there are still parts that I am desperately trying to fix. Skeletons that always emerge from deep within my thought-closet. I feel as though I am so close, yet so far away. Do you ever get that feeling where it's like something is almost within your grasp but not quite... slipping away from your fingertips? Well, that's me. Constantly grasping at straws. But I'm okay, I always was and always will be. Count on that. 

But there are times where I feel thoroughly contemplative about "life" and what I should do about mine....... The answer, of course, is to make myself happy. 

Easy, right.......?

So, me, what makes YOU happy? 
O.K. Let me think about this.
.....I think, no matter how superfical it may be, my appearance makes me happy. And when my appearance does not line up with what I hold in my mind's-eye, THAT's where shit gets fucked up. That's where the meltdowns all emerge from. It's almost like I get a sense of imposter syndrome when I don't feel I match my ideal perception of myself. Now, some may say that's 1) normal, and 2) psychotic.... (but you can't spell "psychotic" without "hot" HUUURRRR) but it's honestly how I truly feel. 

Ehh...... I'll let you know if I figure anything out. It's 12:08am right now and I'm feeling a bit deflated. The best medicine I can suggest to myself in order to remedy this feeling of guilt and shame and whatever is to cosy up in my pyjamas, snuggle down, and watch Friends. 

🌙🌟

Edit: 1:51am now. Classic Belle: I’m still sitting here dressed in my fishnets, makeup still upon my face, thoughts still whirring. Oh you will never learn....

Current Music: Delusion - Currents