This week’s post is a flashback to a song I wrote February 2016.
Miserable, impatient, lonely and sore
Been in this place countless times before
Tired of feeling pathetic and useless
Don’t know how much longer I can do this
What a mess what a mess what a mess
Don’t even need to confess
Just look at me
It’s so clear to see
There’s just no point, just no point
When your feelings are nothing but fodder
I’m just a plaything for others to use
Yet knowingly I let them abuse
What’s the point
When your entire life is out of joint
There’s just no point, just no point.
It’s always interesting to go through my old notebooks & journals.
Writing has been a way of expression and, to a degree, escape for as long as I can remember.
When I was young I would write stories, as well as “songs” like this one. As the years went on the stories left, but the songs remained (though now it’s been a long while since I’ve written one).
My writings come from deep emotion. Most often it’s pain and sadness. (Gotta love some angst!)
Reading my previous writings can transport me to the Jaydee of that time. However, I sometimes I see more of my current self than I’d like to. Cycles are hard to break.
The more I look back on myself the more I see how much I lacked healthy coping mechanisms. The songs from the past 15 years have such similar underlying themes. The first verses explain it well. With reflection, I understand how much of the pain was due to boundary issues, but that’s a discussion for another day.
Do you ever look back on your old creative/emotional outlets? What feelings come along with the experience?
Let me know if the comments, or send me an email (click the envelope below)!