Have you ever felt that you have no idea who you are anymore? Of course you have, I am not so different that I would have purely unique feelings. There are more than 6.5 billion people on this little rock in this purely amazing galaxy, let alone universe. I have never felt the most pain, the most joy, the most fear. Others have taken those honors, one thing that keeps me "cheerful" through the times is this fact: Someone, somewhere, sometime, has felt more pain, been more exhausted, more angered, than I will ever be. Recently I have moved to hollywood to pursue a career in film as a makeup artist, a genuinely enjoyable albeit stress filled profession for me. This event could scarcely have come at a worse time for I have also reached that point in life when a person loses themselves to the ether, a state of identity limbo where they come to question the very essence of their being. Am I a nice guy? Is this the image I wish to portray? My views of sex, relationships, pride, nobility, sin, deceit, right, not so right, wrong, all gone. Pressures of the job, success, failure, and all in a hostile environment in which I am incapable in my current state to replace or at the very least emulate my friends of old. Am I the one that stands strong? No, I just drown myself in work or electronic distraction to forget what I can only describe as being alone in a sea of people. My former self confidence has been almost destroyed, only to arise when I am being challenged with the company of another more shy than myself. I look at the works of others, writings, paintings, creations. In my wildest dreams (which have recently all but ceased, to my great dismay) I could not be as clever, or in the state of constant invention or imagination of those that I so highly respect. Things that were once easily within my grasp such as the ability to speak intelligently or a semi effective memory are so quickly being lost to the void. To add to this culmination of depression, I have that previous fact to look to. Somewhere, sometime, someone has died by torture, endured more loss than I can ever imagine, and I am letting these trivial feelings get me down, the thought of which just furthers my depression. The insanity of it! I am being depressed by the thought that I am being depressed! Who am I?
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chipper
tired