We’re all going to the world’s fair
MONSTER #57493027456 - 2016, 16x20, acrylic and ink on canvas
But how are you feeeeeeeling?
2015 broke me. Maybe I was broken all along, but after a shooting in my apartment building, spending every penny of money I received from an invasive egg donation to survive in the big apple as I worked towards my dream and my ultimate desires of comfort and companionship, my dad getting emergency brain surgery and surprising me as his health care proxy, and having bed bugs, lice, and a cockroach infestation all at the same time… It all seemed to manifest.
I started having really intense visions. Next came a lot of meetings with wealthy therapists where I’d cry that I was prey and predator, deep self-reflection of purpose, group meetings with understanding and complicated people, and nights where I would ruminate on my capability to commit violence.
Basically, my brain-cog would get stuck on really intense, negative, violent thoughts. I would catch myself in these spiraling cycles and I became really afraid. I didn’t want to think those things, so why couldn’t I stop?
For a long time I thought I was crazy. I thought this must be what happens when someone loses control.
I thought that I was a monster deep down, I was one of them, not one of us, and that one day everyone’s gonna see this disgusting side of me, and I couldn’t do anything about it. So, much of my work during this time really reflected that.
I’m just a monster in a world of monsters.
I thought taking Zoloft would make me lose my sparkle. But when you hit rock bottom and the fear begins to fill your limbs, losing your sparkle doesn’t feel so scary anymore. I’d lose my suitcase as long as this plane lands.
Today, the sparkle’s just different - comes in new packaging.
Delta found my luggage — but it’s not that soft LL Bean backpack I threw on the trolley. This shit’s a hard shell, Samsonite. It’s locked, but I know the code. All of the clothes fit a little differently, this isn’t the eyeshadow color I packed, and my toothpaste isn’t Wintergreen, it’s Peppermint. But the comfort of landing, and being able to peel off my sweat-soaked t-shirt and the resulting self-conscious and awkward feeling that stays with you all damn day until you fucking CHANGE just means something different to me now.
Well, I guess this is growing up.