Devilish

I'm curious about evil, and our definition of it. I've always found art which explores and challenges our western definition of evil as extremely fascinating. Sympathy for the Devil isn't exactly unexplored territory---it's splattered throughout popular culture and modern philosophies. I remember studying the origins of rock and roll and its derivatives in Haitian and African religion, which see the embodiment of evil in an entirely different fashion. It absolutely intrigued me. 

Many who know me are aware of my interest in serial killers. I feel much of that is rooted in a desire to understand that which is dark and horrifying, an attempt to apply humanism to that which is inhumane. In my experience working with  EBD students, that which is deemed "bad" is often just terribly misunderstood, and therefore set on a trajectory of maladaptive behavior.  

I guess I just want to nurture all the little devils out there so that we can level out the harsh black and white implications of good vs. evil in our society. I think abandoning those principles will free our minds and guide us more toward acceptance. Granted, it's probably not best to abandon our ENTIRE moral code, but I'm just advocating the shifting of perceptions a bit. 

Anyway, I bring this up because this is a theme I'd really like to explore in my art. I need a new artistic focus and this might be my ticket to establishing emotional stability. 

Existential crisis.

I can't think of a time in my life during which my brain hasn't been entirely overwrought by existential crisis. What is my purpose? What direction am I to take? If I have been imbued with these natural gifts and dispositions, why is it so difficult for me to find my place in this world? 

I find this struggle to be mind-numbing most of the time. And yet, I find myself utterly crushed by the guilt of knowing that the universe has thrust me into this time, this space, this life of utter luxury and opportunity in comparison to so many others' paths, and yet I frequently find myself no less than crippled by my own brain. 

I have so much, yet feel so empty. I have so many people who love me, yet feel so horribly alone. I am a woman haunted. Haunted by something intangible. 

I don't particularly want pity or advice. In fact, both of those things are astoundingly unappealing.  I guess I just long for a modicum of understanding. An understanding of how I see the world, how so many things tough and amuse me, how overwhelmed I am by pain and injustice (as I perceive it). I've been searching for this my entire life, yet I notice that I forge a lot of relationships with strong personalities that I tend to serve instead of enjoying a balanced, healthy interaction. I suppose it's just easier that way; it takes the pressure off of my brain having to function socially for itself. I don't know, I really don't. 

I just want to be in a state of emotional stasis, long enough to heal and recover from this past year, during which I've suffered some rather severe bouts of depression. I just want to be able to trust myself to be okay. 

Because aside from all those close to me who have put up with this, the one who deserves that trust the most is myself.