"I live between Minneapolis, where I grew up, and Los Angeles where I am studying Diplomacy and Comparative Literature at Occidental College. I have been writing poetry for a while and started really composing and recording music in the past two years. I find music to be immensely cathartic whether it be listening or creating and it has always been an important force in my life."
I’m trapped in a forrest of cognitive dissonance. I feel the insurmountable urge to create without structured restraints. To practice, improve, and perhaps will emerge something good. The restraints leash up my brain nonetheless and the needles of pride and association abort takeoff. If it flops than I will.
The same feeling wraps my core regarding the way I look or identify with a certain aesthetic. If I indulge and immerse myself in a preconceived persona or external reflection it could be solidifying, or perhaps a brief detour to try something before putting my itchy sweater back on. But if I do this, am I eliminating whatever else I could become?
Sometimes my body feels like an itchy sweater.
How do I explain the ache of fitting a brain into a skull I do not know the shape of?
If I remain nameless and open to potential, is that any better than cutting off possibility and just becoming? When does well rounded roll to a halt?
A slit it cannot squeeze through. A slot shaped specifically for a few formulas of success?
Is foraging my own path ever comfortable? or even my own? Is digging away the rubble as I go selfish if others cannot walk it?
With a woven branch ceiling, the sky peaks through the trees. Minds set up in solitude just out of earshot. We all have different patterned light-leaks. My inability to see the clearing does not constitute feeling alone,
But I do anyways.