i moved into a new flat, finally living alone. i've needed to do this for awhile. however, i decided not to get the internet at home, in order to re-prioritize my life a little and spend less time getting distracted. for this reason, i have returned to writing with pen and paper, which feels really therapeutic. it actually feels strange to type my thoughts right now, i think the absence of doing it has affected my flow, i don't feel a smooth train of thought like i used to before taking this hiatus.
i've been incredibly homesick lately, as though there's been some shift in the air. physically i feel different, mentally, emotionally, all of it, as though my body's trying to tell me to change something. and all i can do right now is listen and hope patience prevails that i'll figure it all out.
i've been manically creative lately, which is great for producing things, but it's emotionally draining. squeeze paint out of blood, for every artist pays a price. (that's mine, btw) i'm quietly going crazy, preferring to keep all the ebb and flow viciousness inside in order to save face and function in society. i think being a foreigner is starting to have its wear and tear.
i'm ready for may. april has sucked. so much shitty weather, that hasn't helped. all in all i'm doing all right, just plotting my next move. but in a strategic sense this time. i've learned to become more organized. sounds boring but for me it feels really good.
i've been experimenting with other mediums lately besides poetry. i've been recording more music, taking more photos, and drawing again, alongside working on some written memoirs. i'm ready to make something big. the wheels have already been set in motion.