you might be wondering why i lack so many posts as of recently. why there's spacings from a couple hours to 4 days, maybe weeks to write a single post. this is because i just like. i just can't. i have so much to say here but i just can't. no words come out of my mouth, my hands cannot write. i cannot bring myself to share, i cannot bring myself to be. it's so, so tiring to just live. every day feels like a chore, it feels like a chore not sleeping, it feels like i bother everyone everywhere i go. writing is the manifestation of my being, it's who i am. and i'm really not living right now. just surviving. it's exhausting to survive.
i remember struggling to write during my first few posts. the summer post, which i had arguably a lot more to say, i said too few. it's up there with the posts that i could literally write in a discord message. now i don't really struggle anymore. i just write, i let it flow, because that's what making art is. it's this transposition of your soul into something tangible for another to experience. it's passing down your life and seeing as the other interacts with it. a full exposure of the senses, like running around naked and standing there as you wait for the constant approval of your physique. and like, sometimes it's tiresome to put yourself on full display. it takes curating, it takes time to develop well written sentences. sometimes i just say stuff, like it just comes out of the mouth and directly into the screen. but there's this passing of the message, this expectation that comes with the art and the craft that sometimes cannot be surpassed by the indomitable human spirit. i have so many ideas, but at the same time there's this fear of exposing them, of just letting myself out. maybe i'm just insecure, who knows.
now, i think a lot. when i say a lot, i do mean a lot. it's not like i'll ever run out of ideas, a lot. everyone thinks a lot, but i just can't stand to not go and think about what needs to be thought. i need to express myself, and it needs to be loud. i need to be heard. but fitting in with the rest of this is like, really tiresome. going off of the thematic of burnout and more towards writing, i just absolutely adore expressing myself. but like, i'm a worn down puzzle piece trying to fit in with a brand new set. it isn't going to work, and so i just get increasingly more tired. i love to write, but like, i can't do it all the time. sometimes i wish i could just not think anymore, be like all the other kids at the playground. be like all the other people in my family. fit in. but hey, it's good to be autistic sometimes. you wouldn't have this blog if i wasn't.
all posts come from heart. everything that i write is a manifestation of my subconscious. though i try to curate so that it doesn't sound incoherent, what i think goes through here. i somehow rewired my brain to think in english first, portuguese second, so this is straight out of the oven. and like, sometimes i get too tired of thinking. i'm constantly living in my own head, i constantly talk to myself more than i talk to anyone, it feels like i'm a slave to my own mind. that's also another factor of the burnout. i just can't be bothered to do anything because i'm already doing everything everywhere all at once. but sometimes we pull through. some nights feel fresher and some sleeps feel softer. and that's why we keep going. yeah. expect new posts NEVER MWAHAHAAHAH