Just a small town girl, living inside of her head.

If only rooms with padded walls looked like dreams. It wouldn't be so bad, right? I've heard depression described as drowning, but never dying. That makes more sense to me than it should, it's so accurate. I've always liked to swim, so it seems like I wouldn't mind being suspended in a body of water, for a long period of time. However, I have to admit, twenty some odd years is a long time to be swimming. I know, it's not really water. Instead of my lungs filling with water, it's doubt, shame, anxiety and last but not least, all my lovely little demons. The angry little monsters that reside inside of my head, reminding me on a daily basis that life doesn't need me. It feels like they're dancing on my cerebrum, and oh my God, I don't think I have ever once used that word before. Anyways, if I'm right, that's the part of the brain that controls memory. 

My memories come and go pretty frequently, it's very frustrating. When lost memories come back, it's aggressive. Like being punched in the brain with a fist full of fuck you. Excuse my language, but that's what it feels like. It's all part of the emotional roller coaster that is post traumatic stress. Incase you're wondering, there's no height requirement for this ride, and you will vomit. 
Every day is worse than the last. It's not the company I keep, because I'm not anywhere near the people that chewed me up and spit me out. It's not my environment, I'm not in the wonderful world of Western New York anymore. Don't take that seriously, because I took the word wonderful, and dipped it in a huge glass of sarcasm. I guess I'm just done. The things I was good at, the things that used to save me from myself, they're a thing of the past now. My camera used to be my best friend, but I am no longer able to do any favors for the art of photography.  

Writing was always a good outlet. Obviously, it still can be at times. I have this blog. Sadly, it's all that remains. Song lyrics, poems, screenplays, I stopped all of it. It felt like I was ruining something. It was the same feeling with my acting, and my music. I actually think I remember when I decided to kill my music. I was in the middle of writing lyrics, and they mentioned something about playing my veins like violin strings, with a razor blade. Super morbid, I know. I wouldn't recommend having a self harm addiction to my worst enemy. It's like having your demons on the outside. Anyways, I remember looking at those words, and wanting to cry. I probably did, because it had nothing to do with the rest of the song. It was just a random damn thought that I had, and it was scary. So yes, I'm a coward and I ran away from my own music. 

I'm an artistic disaster for sure, I've claimed that proudly for a long time. Only, you can be an artist and suck really badly at it. Turns out my photos are super generic, and my writing is that of a twelve year olds. Luckily, the person that pointed that out hates my blog. Their eyes are saved from this entry, yay! I didn't plan on updating, but I needed something to do. I am antsy, I can't sleep, and the demons are having a dance party in my head. Their music must have lots of bass, because my head hurts so bad, that I can't see straight. That's my cue I suppose. 

Smile, you're on fake face camera! ☻

"You obviously don't suffer much from your mental illness since you smile in photos all the time."

I didn't know how to respond when that comment was made, so I just apologized. The more I thought about it, the more confused I got. Are people with demons supposed to wear a sign? I mean, I've got them. I thought the scars all over my arms made that pretty clear. I'm not mad at the comment, it just doesn't make sense to me. 

A smile is like a blanket, it covers things that you don't want exposed. Regardless of what it is. In my case, more often than not, my smile covers the fact that I have absolutely no idea what's going on around me. I'll just be honest, there are boxes of dirt smarter then I am. That combined with me being stuck in my own head all time distracts me from everything. I'm happy that I can't see my own face when people are talking to about things. I probably look so damn clueless. That's how my demons work. If their not running around my brain, they're throwing confetti made out of anxiety and self hatred. 

People wear all sorts of masks. Some people frown all the time. Others are just neutral. I chose the smile mask because when my facial expression matches how I feel, it tends to piss people off. I don't like putting people in moods like that, it's mean. 

I guess the main reason why I'm so confused by the comment is the meaning. If you really think that a person doesn't have issues just because they have happiness plastered across their face....please think again. There's a saying for this situation. 

"I laugh to keep from crying."

There you go. It's weird, it seems like people think depression can be switched on and off. Hey, if you have the ability to do that, I am sincerely impressed. Just know, not all of us have that luxury. I'm saying that there aren't real smiles. Some are genuinely there for a positive reason. 

As for the smiling in pictures thing, I don't always do it. Typically, when I choose not to smile, people get negative about it. But I was a photographer, which is a form of art and expression. There's a reason why there is something Emotive Photography. So whether or not a person is smiling in a photo or not, maybe they're just trying to express something. 

I guess you can't please everybody, but right now, I feel like removing my mouth and putting it in my pocket.