sketchablepaperfold

an aiming to be designer, with the soul of a writer

Tag: future

Living Between Several Passions

I often wonder if it’s enough. Drawing to earn my life, while living, in so many ways, for writing.

I wonder if I chose the right way, if it’s the right thing for me, if it’s really what I want to do.

I’m not trying to say I don’t love fashion, drawing, design, art in general – that would be the ultimate lie, and I’m simply not able to say it. Yet, writing is like breathing to me. It’s the thing that catches my breath, that prevents my heart from beating, the only thing I want and need to do when my thoughts are overwhelmed.

I always remember passing by my college – without having the smallest idea of what it was – and wonder about it. Thinking something like what are those two grey buildings over there? I never got the answer, until the day I actually went there. After a long while of tears, pain and suffering, I’ve actually felt home there. I felt like I was really supposed to be there, and wouldn’t picture my life in a different way.

I read college programs, many abroad, and I dream about seeing my collection in a catwalk, waving at the end of a show; about casually finding one of my pieces on a magazine, or reading my very own interviews as a designer. But I can’t help wondering if it’s enough.

In the other hand, if I had chosen a writing related course, everything would have been so different. I wouldn’t have lived half of the things I lived, wouldn’t have met none of the people I met – and who mean so much to me – ; probably, would have kept sat at the bottom of the mainstream, and wouldn’t have turned in the person I am today.

I don’t regret my choice, but sometimes, I find myself feeling my heart tighten, and this particular anguish whose provenance hasn’t been released – at least, not for me. I don’t know if I’m deceiving myself, and that doubt, that absence of answers [and also of ways to find them] destroys me, piece by piece.

As I’ve already made clear, I do love fashion and design, but I also love photography [the magic of the moment you keep safe in your memory for an entire eternity is something that I just can’t explain properly. It’s like I could go back in time, whenever I wanted. As if someone could actually stop the time, and have it as one wishes] and, of course, I’m so devoted to writing, painting scenes, pictures, entire exhibitions in my mind, and describing them with my very own words, without getting close to an end.

In a certain way, writing and drawing have always been together in my life. When working on actual projects, like novels, I always draw the places where my story happens. I carefully draw the houses and plan their inside, placing objects in order to give more reality to my scenes, and to allow everyone to imagine the actual place without problems. Of course, I also think about the way the characters are dressed, and even research – when writing a period romance – , to find out how was life in that time.

Surely, design has a strong connection with writing, since the entire history of design was built by designers and architects, people who worked with design… But the authentic question is: will it work for me? Will I be happy just devoting a part of my existence to words, while devoting the other part to fashion design? Will I be able to manage my love for photography, too? Will I ever feel complete, living like that, without having one passion – like everyone else does – but several meaningful ones? Will I find the time, the willingness, the strength to dedicate myself, with all of my heart to design, so that I can sincerely improve, and still do everything else? Will I ever manage my time correctly, so that I can do everything I love?

In the end, it all comes to one question: who the hell am I? What do I want? 

Will I ever find those answers, the real ones? And will I ever cease the anguish I have, exactly because I don’t know them?

So many things, so little time. Gosh, I often feel like my head is a few minutes to blow. I keep thinking, and don’t seem to find a thing. Soon, September will arrive and I’ll need to prove that I deserve the place I have in that Fashion Design class. I have to be stunningly great, yes, I do. Yet, I wonder where will I find the strength to do it; what is, in the end, my carrot, the goal I want to achieve and will make me fight , no matter what, to get it.

Gosh, Amy, take a breath. Or, better, start acting. You can’t stay like this any longer. You can’t wait anymore. You need to do something. 

William or Words To My Beloved

I wish I would know how to start this, my love. I wish I would.

I wish I had you right next to me, instead of needing to write this – that’s the truth, the actual one. The truth that holds no lie, no omission – nothing but all I’ve always hide and denied.

I miss you, William – more than words can describe. It’s been a long, long time since the last time I saw you; since the last time your smile brightened my existence just for being around; since your eyes caught mine and I felt so embarrassed I had to look away, fearing that you could notice the brightness I wasn’t allowed to avoid.

I wish I had been allowed to say how much I care for you, that I didn’t have to restrain myself every time I wanted to be in your arms.

Oh William, how I wish things could have been different – you’ve no idea of how much.

But no, I can’t stay, love, even though it breaks me into small pieces. I can’t stand the idea of giving you what I’ve got, and I wouldn’t forgive myself if I ever got to hurt you. I just can’t, William.

Of course I don’t seem to be able to forgive myself for this, for not being good enough to have you, for being broken and needing time to figure out who I am, to mend and move on.

I’m so sorry, William, so sorry. Specially because I know you’d say you’d help me to find all the answers I need, and I simply can’t take that offer. I can’t put you into the situation I’ve already handled – trying to heal someone who needs time and reflection.

Don’t even try to think I don’t love you, William. Please, don’t – I loved you since the first time you smiled at me, a long, long time ago. And that’s exactly why I don’t want to cause you pain.

Still, I miss you. And, to be honest, if I could, I’d go back in time and tell you about my feelings while you were near me, while, in a certain way, I had you. But no: one, I can’t turn back time; and two, I never told you because I was afraid to lose you.

Anyway, I ended up loosing you. And now, you’re gone without a clear reason, without a word. Now, I’m alone, missing you despite having figured out I need to be on my own to pick up the pieces and rebuilt my existence.

I never thought I’d lose you, love. Not like this. Not when I thought everything would change, that I’d feel whole again. Not when I had finally found exactly what I’ve always searched. Not when you looked at me that way and I knew, I truly knew you loved me back. Not when I tried to extend each and every single farewell. Not when I wanted to be in your arms, endlessly. Not when we had such a beautiful, tender connection.

I never thought it would end up like this, the way I’d never imagine, the non obvious way, the one I’d never saw coming closer.

We had everything to be great – if I wasn’t that broken and needed to be certain about my own choices. We had, not anymore.

At this time, I can only wish that, one day, when I’m completely aware of myself, it could be different, and we’re finally allowed to be with each other, like we truly wanted to.

In the meantime, I’ll be away.

I’ll miss you, love. Everyday. But it’s the best thing to do, and the best time to do it. I need to clear my mind. I just couldn’t delay it anymore.

First and foremost, I need to know who I am, what I want to do, where do I see myself in a few years, which are my dreams and fight for them with all I’ve got, with all my soul.

Then, I’ll feel good enough to return.

The Past and the Future Still Enjoy Haunting the Present

Living in the past. Here is something we’ve all been told not to do. Yet, honestly, what do we do besides that?!

We’re always stuck with what we’ve done, always. What you did yesterday, built the day you’re having now, and what you’re doing now will determine how tomorrow will be. So, there is no visible way that lead us to live anywhere but in the present – at least, for a person like me.

The past is always there, haunting you, waiting for you to blink an eye and get distracted. Then, it’ll just jump above you and throw you at the floor. Or – even worse, I guess – it’ll guide you to the closest window, to watch the sunset, sigh and feel the loneliest creature above Earth.

Someone decided to create something which is – sometimes – mean: memories. Those beings which, sometimes, gently offer a tender smile to your lips but, to make it a fair game, they’ll also provide you serious heartaches. For creatures like me, doctors invented – or simply discovered – the broken heart disease. Therefore, at least, I’ll be “allowed” to say that I’ve got a heartache, so yes, I love it! [I’d like a bit of sarcasm, please!]

A person will think about the past – at least, about what she did yesterday. But the catch is that yesterday is so close, that it seems to have happened one hour ago. Curious thing, the psychological view of time, ha?! And, of course, a person will always think about the future: what will we have for lunch or dinner? What will I tell at the meeting, next week? What will I tell him, tomorrow?

See, our notion of tomorrow is quite similar with the idea we’ve got of yesterday: they both seem too close to be denied, labeled as something different from the present moment, and we just accept them as part of the family, as someone who’s sleeping in our guest room. We nod, we smile, and we resign.

People often say that we must live the present, and consider it as a gift. I’m just deducing that, when we’re thinking about one hour ago, or ten minutes from now, we’re not living the present. We’re just stuck at what we did, and what we’ll do, but haven’t done yet. The curious thing is that I tend to take my thought utopias about the future – even that future that will happen tomorrow – as granted, just as if they were actual truths, or better, memories.

For example, right now, I’m not living the present. I’m just here, writing, settling down my ideas, thinking. In that very moment, I presume, a voice will rise and say But, my dear, thinking is a way of living. And then, I’ll just be quite rude and disagree. No, I don’t think that thinking is a way of living. It’s just a way for a person – in this case, me – to feel better about the whole outlook, and try not to notice everything else, happening around me.

[Sometimes, I wish I could scream, and throw a few people a bucket of truths – so that their eyes opened and they truly could grasp reality – instead of being here, unable to say a thing. I’m truly aware, though, that someday, I’ll just lose my mind, forget everything – what I had; what I could have, but simply don’t; what they think and how they’ll react; and specially, what they’ll think about me, that moment forward – and just say it. Everyone knows that day is coming.]

It’s just like that time I said I’d throw some white ink to this blog. I’ve been willing to do it for a few weeks. A few days after broadcasting I’d re-built the color scheme, I actually did it, and I’m pretty sure it didn’t even took a week.

Wishes – Deep Wishes. Nothing Else.

Sometimes, I just wish it could be easier. Everything, you know?

I wish living in our planet could be simplified, and not the hard thing it is nowadays. I wish I could breathe easily, knowing that I’d afford my college degree and find a job. I wish I could live as a young person, since I’m young and always behaved like an adult.

I wish I didn’t have to worry about a few things I worry.

I wish I could know exactly what to do, and how to do it. I wish I had an honest idea of the answer to the typical where do you see yourself in five years?, because I absolutely don’t. Well, I don’t even know if, in five years, I’ll be in the hemisphere I’m today, so how could I possibly know what and how I’ll be?

I wish a few things could be different, better. I wish that people didn’t have to worry about the insane expenses of their governors, could be sure they’ll have food in their tables and afford their kids a decent life.

I wish I could be like every college student, that keeps her old friends, and once in a while, meets them and attend to class dinners.

I wish I could understand all those statements I read in the internet about debts and familiar economy – stuff I actually needed to know so that I could help my parents – , but the people who write them just tend to forget that society isn’t made exclusively of lawyers. I wish they could understand that, and become more helpful than they are right now.

I wish I could truly collaborate in a creation of a better world but, sometimes, I just don’t know if I have the strength to do it.