untouchable

art, loneliness, love, self love, Uncategorized

 

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How I feel is empty within myself. Although, yes I lived the life of the party, danced naked with strangers and kissed so many even I’m surprised I never got Mano; at these same events, no one even played my song. No one thought of it. I have finally arrived at a scene where I’m put on the queue. I have gone from an angsty drug addict to an artistic friend. People are curious about what I have to say or what I have done. I now feel what I release matters even more than before. It is no longer just an obsessive ex reading what I put out. People are beginning to actually understand my style and respond with interest. They are looking at me for inspiration, and not just artists, all of them, nursing majors, entrepreneurs, engineers, etc. They are the first to respond and bring questions forward. I feel heard by people I don’t even see anymore. By people, I will most likely never see in my life again. So yes, this is why I feel empty. I feel empty because I cannot bring these people into my bed at night, I cannot bring them along with me to my day job, I cannot hear them in my meditations, I cannot use them up to feel less lonely throughout my days. I hear that I make them feel less lonely, more secure, alive even, but then I feel lonelier. As if, the relatability discredits my artistic persona. This persona is insulted but when it’s me, and I mean just me…I’m curious about what more I can make people feel comfortable with. Can I make them comfortable admitting things they’d never admit to complete strangers online? Could I almost save people from becoming alienated within their thought of “No one else does this” by displaying, that yes, in fact, we all do. We all do this. We all sit on our phones a lot longer than we’d admit. Yes, we all think it’s our way of living within a fantasy over our boring unfiltered reality.  We all lie and over-exaggerate our stories to people, but no we aren’t liars. We just like a story worth telling and we feel the real story doesn’t surprise anyone we’d like to impress. Ah yes, we also think a million thoughts and find it hard to do any of it, all the possibilities face us and let’s face it ourselves, confrontation is terrifying even if it’s us we’re facing. So we end up watching Youtube influencers show us how to do the things we already know how to do and by the time the 13-minute video you’ve watched on 1.5 speed is over, the interest has faded. Maybe they had an uneasy tone or we didn’t like the aesthetic or they made it feel too commercial or we feel they were trying too hard, but MAYBE what it is, is that you can’t get yourself to just do it yourself. That’s the truth and yes we all feel that and yes it’s shameful, but we don’t give ourselves the space to think of the shame. So we never get over the fact that we haven’t done any of the things we’ve been trying to do since the new year and now there’s an even newer year where newer goals need to be accomplished. But none of this is shameful, it’s human. Everyone does this, even your friend that seems to know how to do everything.

This is what makes me feel lonely. That I write all of this in hope, everyone will agree with me and agree that they do this too, but it is in fact just me. My need to feel relatable but also untouchable will keep me unsatisfied with you all. But I need you all.

Are We Satisfied?

art, loneliness, love, self love, Uncategorized, writing

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Smiling although it has become more of a reminder over a natural response in the last few days. But I imagine, every human with a purpose has felt this some days. I began to think, loneliness, does it have to be so lonesome? Or could I discover myself and my needs through the experiences of others? How much do I rob of their lives for my own? For a simple kiss I should be satisfied, but if I merely focus on human passions… would I be?

Submission by CH

art, love, poetry, Uncategorized, writing
I surrender,
You can have this body. It craves nothing but the tips of your fingers anyway.
Always holding it close as if all your prayers have been answered.
I’ll give you this heart. Only you can make it beat like this, like every time you smile it’s beating like a kindergarten crush holding hands for the first time. I gave you my soul that day when we discovered it was linked together anyway 
Loving you is a being really high and never coming down 
Loving you is cliche lines like that, 
So I surrender.
I surrender all my love to you.

How My Emotions Blocked My Art

art, article, photography, self love, Uncategorized, writing

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Like any other millennial or Gen Z kid (which one am I?!), I have taken my feelings too literally. I have let my feelings run my everyday life. From whether or not I should give my elementary crush a valentine card to creating this blog 4 years ago. Everything I have done in this life so far has been emotion based. Which yes, never ignore your feelings, but when all you have to rely on are your emotions, let’s face it…Nothing is getting done. I haven’t gotten anything moving due to this bad habit of mine. I haven’t taken this blog seriously, my writing, or my acting. This blog had become a public diary for some years…ok most years…ok it still is a public diary. My writing has remained in the so-called diary and a couple of other sites. And my acting? Let’s just say my resume SCREAMS, “Hasn’t left community college theater.” It’s all a whole stuck in her head BS. 

I don’t remember a time in my life that hasn’t revolved around how people made me feel.

Everything has become, “What will they think of me!” or “Are they even thinking about me?” I need people’s obsessional love and if I am not feeling in danger from their appreciation then I want the biggest hatred coming from these personas. I want their regret, jealousy, FURY to pump through their veins. Where did this need to be known come from? And why did it fuck with my emotional state so much? 

Last night, I had a nightmare filled with sweats, racing beats, and ruffled sheets all about me doing poorly on stage and being seen as untalented. Woke up, calmed myself, then moved onto the next dream, where I saw my name trending on Twitter. I felt the rush it brought and the soreness from smiling too hard. I felt honored and loved to an extreme. I loved it, I didn’t want to wake up. Every time I did, I quickly closed my eyes and returned to my fantasy land. It wasn’t a sex dream nor a dream with family, but FAME. Am I too fame-crazed? Do I want it too much? Maybe for the wrong reasons possibly? 

Due to this weird obsession I have gotten with being loved and hated, it has stopped me from putting out things I actually like. I have filled my creativity with, “Will they like it?” or “What if no one does?” Blocking my creativity to such points has damaged me. My emotions have been causing the writer’s block I have been living in. If I just allowed some logic to flow through my daydreaming life, maybe I wouldn’t have to rely on dreams to feel appreciated for my work. 

I don’t know if I am going to invite logic with open arms, but I am leaving a slip open for her to join my creativity. It will be uncomfortable, having to silence my feelings a bit and allow the rawness of my workflow without judgment, but this is a task I’m ready to learn. And I advise this to all my fellow artists, whichever craft you practice, to allow the emotions to calm and let your grounding side to take control for a moment. 

Poetry By Kiara Sangronis

abuse, art, love, poetry, Uncategorized

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At Least I Am Beautiful Now

My screams and tears look much more poetic with a face like mine.

Your scars and bruises seem to compliment the color of my eyes.

Even when I call you names, they seem to taste like a sweet glass of wine,

disguising that we have been sitting in a house infested with flies.

But when I don’t extend my nails and shine them with gold,

Lips so pale and chapped, my breath smelling of mold.

If my bitterness is displayed over the glitter I’ve pressed on my lids,

will the choices I have made, remain so compelling, so bold?

Which is better?

To be heard and hated? 

To be seen but never straightened?

To think the pain is all still in relation, but my looks change the way it will be taken.

Would my wrongdoings be taken seriously if I had no face at all? 

Or would they soon dissolve and become a murder mystery to be played at some ball?

Ease Her

art, love, Uncategorized

I can feel this new wave of creativity running through my mind and the minds around me. We are all craving something bigger than money or love or the war or our temples. It is not just self-expression. Yes, it is jotting our feelings on a canvas, but we need to, not only for our souls to be free but for the world. The more days I live the more I believe Earth was only put here to test specific souls, to test our abilities and how much change we can bring onto our planet. When it comes to my art I can’t help but feel as if I could be this: An angel sent down to save. I endured so much pain at such a young age and for what? I refuse to believe I was only put here for misery. I simply needed to learn pain to understand how Gaia must feel at this point. Artists were made to ease her and the ones living within her.