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gerardwritestuff · 3 years

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Of late, I've been following a lot of musicians and content creators on Instagram and every time I get on here to make a post or watch some reels, I've been feeling like this field I'm in is so fucking saturated.

I keep telling myself that it's just my head and that I should be more consistent with content creation if I expect myself to get to where I want to be. But it's more than that now.

I've been working my ass off, spending every free break I get to work on my music, or to make my compositions and arrangements better, but it never seems to cut it. Then, when I get frustrated, I blame it on my lack of ability to form my ideas in a way that makes sense, so that they're true to who I am.

I can't fight off this urge to procrastinate. I can't seem to fight this desire to follow up with something spectacular. I keep raising the bar so fucking high for myself, because everyone is living this hustle culture that's so toxic, I get no chance to be authentic, to just be myself.

I'll tell you what I mean.

I've been putting out music that sounds like a great deal of bitching and complaining about shit that people have done to me, when in reality I wanna move past that crap and leave it in the dust. I'm sick of writing these two-bit, wack, unoriginal, spit-on-a-beat, break-up anthems that sound like I'm the one being victimized and that nothing would be alright because I went through shit. Hell, I can make a lot more than just rap, but why am I still releasing it then? Why can't I just tell myself to do what I like?

Here's why.

People wanna tell me to "live my truth" and "fight fire with fire", but I'm honestly tired of fighting. I know I can't change the past but I sure don't wanna dwell on it anymore. It's not only eating me up from the inside, but it's turned me into a person I'd never thought I'd be.

I don't wanna have to rely on some bad things to happen to me so that I'm inspired to write a track. I don't want my art to be my chronic pain anymore. It's too much effort to put in and I find myself hurting more than before.

I've been putting this idea to good use and turning up with so many feel good, exciting and challenging projects. But when it comes down to execution, it sounds nothing like what I envisioned or what I even stood for in the first place.

And then, people tell me, "it doesn't matter what you put out as long as you put something out", but how is that fair to me? I don't become an artist anymore, I'm just a machine now. And why? All because I gotta "gain a following", or because I should "appeal" and be "relatable". Well, if that's all music is to you, why should I lose my shit tryna make sure I can do that? Or do stay true to myself and my art?

It's pissing me off, big time. I might be wrong, but I needed to get this off my chest. I'm done with the past, with writing about people who hurt me and about people who wanna gossip. Now, I'm making art for myself, art that I like, art that speaks to me, and if it speaks to you, I couldn't be happier.

Scrapping the rest of these bullshit rhymes and stories.

I'm sorry for this drama, peace. 😤

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gerardwritestuff · 3 years

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May 7th 2018

I wonder what happened that day.

I wrote something in phases.

If you want a written entry on what happened I'll tell you.

But only you, I don't think I can trust anybody with this. Plus, no one wants to help me with it concerning my best interests so there's not much done with it.

Well for starters, you want the truth. Right?

You want the absolute truth but how am I warranted to give it to you? What can you do for me that's not euthanasia or some fucked up solution to helping me? What's your grand scheme that's supposedly shrouded in mystery that you can't tell me?

I don't know where to start.

"I think they can help. No, they can't."

It's a cycle.

This carousel of indecision had me so tied up in my own skin, I couldn't trust a soul. I felt like I was bound to perish and not a single person would help my cause.

You think you can help, but then you're faced with something much bigger than yourself and that's when you'll coward out because no one will ever want to take the stand for someone else.

Because that's love.

And no one's big enough to accept that. We shroud ourselves on the façade of help and care but people only care enough for you to stop being their problem after a while.

Pain is a real motivator; and I mean real, unfiltered, physical, raw pain. And the human body loves routine. So when you make pain a part of your routine your brain gives you an outlet.

And that's exactly what happened.

I lost my goddamn mind, at least I think I did. People love telling you things to shield you. No one wants to tell you the truth. It hurts. I thought I was doing the right thing all this time by telling people what they wanted to hear, but the truth is I only played the role of being this useless pawn in the game of life I've been living.

Now read between the lines.

Oh yeah, I remember, end of my second year of college.

Things were going all right, to say the least, I'd been having a blast and I'd thought I'd been doing alright but then I went to that damn counselor.

He gave me an alternative to religion. Told me that I could pour my heart and soul into this idea that everything around me was a message from God. That God was talking to me through the things around me. What the fuck.

My life changed completely.

People say schizophrenia isn't something that one could call an observable science. You can't make sense of it. Hell, it's been 2000 years and we still haven't made anything of it. Not like we're close to cracking the code to the human genome or anything of the sort.

I don't know what to tell you. I felt scared at the start. It was like the world was a chasm of wrath and evil and that everything around me screamed for an escape. But really, who was to blame? You can't expect one to live their lives normally after the truth comes out.

That's insanity. Isn't it?

There'd been a couple of things to contribute to this episode. I'd become shrouded in the fact that whatever I'd witnessed till now had been an amalgamation of my memories and that my perception wasn't driven by inference but by incredulity. The more I got lost in my thoughts, the farther away my sense of discernment drove me. Until then, I'd only ever seen life through the eyes of a fawn, and in this forest, there hadn't been a lot going on. Well, at least for me, that is.

I looked on with disbelief as everyone around me playing this game of pretense would never read between the lines. I fell to the ground thinking of how much I'd lived through basking in a bath of whim and false security. It suffocated me, pushing hard against my back as I sank face-first into the dirt. Nothing was ever the same, because nothing was ever as it seemed.

We try so hard to forget. It helps us, comforts us. We do it every day, as we see the crippled on the street and pay a deaf ear, to be guiltless about how destitute they seem; it makes us feel powerful, to know that if we never remember the pain we once went through, we'd be okay. We hope we will someday.

But that's not the point I'm ever going to try to make. I'm here to tell you that what happened to me, wasn't an option neither an accident. I'm certain things turned out the way they did because nothing would have given me a way out until I reached that point of utter desperation.

What if they can hear my thoughts?

What if they know exactly how much of a monster I really am?

Once I'd entertained that thought in my head, it fed on my psyche like a virus. I let it get a hold of me and very soon I wasn't acting like myself anymore. I didn't know what to do except paint a picture, a picture that made it seem like I knew what I was doing. Like I knew what I was talking about and had me acting like I knew what I was messing with.

Commence a feeling of awe and daring carefree. Something in me had cracked like a glass rod and my sense of self-preservation hadn’t left. It was more toward being swept under the carpet or shoved in the back of a car.

I was playing spectator now because someone else was at the wheel.

And God did it scare me. It made me a complete fanatic. Buzzing my hair and preaching about shit I had no clue about?! I was way in over my head, acting like a prophet no less, and even after I'd gotten over it, it never really left. I needed the world to know that I was losing it, and that it made me special, and that it drove me to believe things. Things that were driven by my convictions and not my real feelings. I drove my family and friends away, made them afraid of who I’d become, and now, I couldn’t be more sorry for acting so numb.

I really needed a change, I didn’t want this to be a one-off thing. I couldn’t believe anyone. When they told me that they were thinking up a solution that was the best for me, I saw it as a ruse. In my head, they were just pretending to care because they were scared that I’d keep acting crazy and wouldn’t let up until my head had cleared.

But there was some good out of it, I guess. I’m not really sure. I can never really tell with all the castles in the air. But I’m glad this shit has blown over, and I’m better now. I hope I never go back to that holier-than-thou shit. I had a few demons that I’ve fought with. Those monsters are in the past now, they’ll turn up more often than not. But that won’t keep me in a whirl, I won’t let them. The future’s in my hands, the past is how I’ll forget them.

Then and only then will I realize,

That the real monsters never existed under my bed, they never did.

The real monsters exist right inside my feeble mind.

Black and white, followed by a question at the end of the reel.

But they never stop.

Days bleed into each other and the one thing you’re left with is the only place you started from.

To draw a line between determination and desperation.

To be able to feel like you needed something else from the mind-numbing regret that just enveloped you and continues to coalesce your being.

Make it stop.

Please, just make it stop.

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gerardwritestuff · 3 years

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Bereaving Belief. [monologue]

This might be controversial. But I don’t give a damn.

- I don't think it's as simple as that. I think it's more to do with the idea that I've done so many things that I regret and it feels terrible and now those things, in turn, will play a role in how I react to you.

- Nothing is going to change what happened. Nothing is going to release the regret of doing all these things. It's going to fester. And I've ignored this for so fucking long. I'm finally realizing that I need to look out for myself. I don't know if I'll be able to do that and still be the person I was. Because that's only going to make me see you as something that obstructs my progress.

- Because right down to the wire, it's going to be, more than often, me not agreeing with what you have to say about certain things. And that's not your fault. We just have very very different fundamental belief systems.

In my belief, I believe that there is a concept of salvation, which is the freedom from the power of sin. That salvation is everlasting, and that sin has the power to influence what's bad and immoral.

You believe that you have faith in yourself and the tangible and that your idea of a righteous reward comes from doing good to others like you would like them to help you.

For me, I believe that we all need salvation from sin because we can't stop sinning, we can only choose to do better.

For you, the sins that I think are bad don't actually come across to you as bad.

For me, if there isn't a supreme objective spiritual-moral center, then anyone could make up whatever moral framework they choose. It doesn't make it the Truth, though.

For you, belief in Santa Claus doesn't make that the truth either.

"I know you know, deep within yourself, you feel a Higher Presence. You dismiss it as your own thoughts and deter yourself from believing that it could be real."

"That little voice that you call your conscience? It's God.

When we can accept that God is the only explanation for the origin, contingency, regularity, and fine-tuning of the universe, we'll be better off."

"Salvation is nothing more than recognizing we are human and everything we do isn't always correct. We are not perfect, we are creations with faults. And at least for me, salvation comes from admitting that to ourselves first."

"But you don't get it, do you? I'm trying to say that we're different people, but I don't think that's reason enough to dismiss you, because your feelings are valid but I need you to understand why these polarizing ideas have me in a conundrum, and how that could affect me. I just need you to help me strengthen my faith, not doubt it."

You loved the version of me that believed in the world.

But that version of me is dead, as is your love.

You love me, but you don't think you like me, huh?

I wonder what that means.

I know just what you meant.

#god #spirituality #belief #dialogue #lettinggo #coping

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gerardwritestuff · 3 years

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Demur

I made a mistake. But don't get ahead of yourself, this isn't an apology. It's a testament to why I will never be apologetic for whatever ensued between the two of us.

The worst part of all of this is that it took me the longest to realize. But by the time I had, it was too late. Too long had I been trapped by the things you’d done for me, to make a headstrong decision to step away from the self-destructive behavior I had subjected myself to.

I tried to make sense of it as I went along but things got out of hand too quickly for me to do anything about it.

I started questioning my own judgement. But it was far too late to do anything because I'd gone too far on the path I'd created, with my own unruly decisions. And no sooner had I realized it, you unequivocally got attached to me.

I was going through a phase in my life where I wanted to be sure about the person I was becoming. I wasn't sure of who I was. I wasn't trying to hurt anyone, and in retrospect, I don't think I could've.

You knew very well what you were getting yourself into. You had nothing to offer me because we weren't even the slightest bit alike and since we connected on no other level except a physical plane, we took it upon ourselves to hurtle each other with affection, which was forced, if anything.

We did it to save whatever we had. But it progressed from there to a point where it just wasn't enough. I could see the look on your face. I tried so hard to pick up the pieces.

I would say I loved you, you'd say it back, and things would go on the way they were, unsolved and toxic.

And God, was it painful. It festered and hatched into a unavoidable cyst I'd have to address sooner or later.

But then she came along, and stole the crown.

She gave me a sense of self preservation. I'm thankful for her. I'm grateful for what she did for me.

Honestly, if it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have realized a number of things.

I understood what it felt like to be hurt. To feel so much despair knowing that there was nothing to be done to fix my predicament.

I came to learn what it felt like to lose someone I loved. Someone I'd truly cared about as I came along this journey, lost to somebody else because of my own inability to step away from my eagerness to please you.

I grew to loath you and your presence. But after a great deal of thought, I learned to hate myself more, for not stepping up to the challenge of having to tell you that I didn't care for you as I once did.

Knowing my prowess and talent, I’d expect a decent match. But there I was, trapped in a bubble of mediocrity, and I could do nothing about it. Since I'd have to deal with an onslaught of hate from all sides.

But now,

I just don't care.

I'm only telling you this because you deserve to know. You are the master of yourself. You always were. You always had the chance to grow with me but you never took it. And sooner or later you'll come to grips with why we never worked.

Somewhere down the line, you'll learn what the specifics were that caused me to react the way I did. And when you do, you'll know that my hands were tied.

I didn't know who I was. I was going through a battle for my morality, goals, and spirituality.

You couldn't have figured it out for me because you didn't have to. It wasn't your job. But you did however get tied up all in between it. I didn't want it to have to be your responsibility. But things just happened. You made my problems matter to you, and I'm not saying that it's your fault that you cared for me. But if you didn't, you wouldn't be this hurt. Because in the end, things just played out as they did and I had no control over how you'd feel.

I shouldn't have involved you in the many things that made me think about myself, because the more I got conflicted about my psyche, the more I hurt you. You didn't know what to do because it was your first time in a relationship. You were confused as to who I was. On the other hand, I did know what to do but I was too confused myself to figure out a way to execute it and make anything right.

Worst part is, I didn't know how to tell you what I was going through or feeling without considering the prospect of hurting you. There were times when I felt absolutely nothing for you. I communicated my concerns wrongly but to be fair it wasn't easy getting an idea or my feelings across to you; and I think that's one of the few reasons why we found it so difficult to get to know anything about each other as people and relate to things that we didn't share in common.

Some might call me selfish. Perhaps I am. But if I am, then so are you; because if you truly cared about my well-being, you wouldn't have me all for your own, just because you were scared to be alone.

I was not the guy to make do with what I got, especially after how I'd grown as time went by.

I'm not going to be apologetic for looking out for my own interests, or for raising the bar a little higher than the norm.

People could flock together and gossip about the many reasons I was never the guy for you, and consequently, you could play the victim your whole life. I could honestly care less.

The way I see it, you were too busy getting comfortable with someone you didn't even deserve.

And never once, did you even think of the same.

If I were to keep it plain and simple, the only reason we didn't work, is because you weren't mature enough to grow with someone who was. Me and you were miles apart, literally.

Oh, plus, my family hated yours. So I guess that sums it up. And you know me well enough to understand that at least for me, family comes first.

And let's be real, I could've never fought for you. What would it have cost?

I did love you once upon a time. But the man that loved you isn't the same gullible fool he used to be.

The same fool that took it upon himself to woo your favor. The same fool that never once thought about himself. The same fool that spent months in anguish trying to get you back because of some misplaced sense of self-righteousness. The same fool who was dumb enough to engage himself with a polar opposite.

I'm done playing the fool.

It's time to stop.

#thoughts #movingon #hurt #coping

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