What It Feels Like to Change

by AmyDolores

My words aren’t terribly inspired these days. I know this. I feel it in the way I write and speak and draw. Today I found myself sulking at the realization that I’ve changed. I don’t know if it is bad. I don’t quite know how either. I’ve realized that much of my life I chased something different. I wanted more creativity, more style, more uniqueness. New. Adventures. Change. It’s not that I don’t appreciate these things any more. The ants are infinitely in my pants and diversity still awakens and excites me.

I think its just that I see so many of the lifestyles I daydreamed of living and realize much of it is an image, an idea and, in the end, we’re all quite the same. We all have happiness and hardships. We all eat and sleep and shit. Your hair might be purple and your jeans might be ripped. But I hope you see me in my beige trench-coat and know that I feel the brilliance of the sunshine and the monotony of working for a paycheck just like you do.

I find it harder and harder to buy into the magic of a creative hipster or to look starry-eyed at a fashionista in her designer shoes.  I don’t see the rainbows shining out of your ass anymore, I just hope you’re edge makes you happy.

I realize I sound quite jaded. Maybe I am. I used to feel happiness finding comfort in an idea and now that it has actualized, the reality of it has hardened me. So far, I’ve lived up to many of my dreams – traveling, growing a strong romantic relationship, living in a major city, working at a job with autonomy and lots of personal growth.  While they’re all truly wonderful, they aren’t as idyllic as the I imaged. Life still involves those jagged edges. The unplanned pains, shitty mental states, bad people and small but significant set backs.

With all this realization that the reality of my daydreams are sweet but still, well, real life, its as though I’ve done a 180. I care more about things that are close to home -family, my childhood house and city in all of it’s suburban glory (I used to HATE it there!), deep-rooted relationships and simple pleasures like drinking a good beer while I write this.  These things that bring my back to who I am without an idea or intention, just my purest self -these give me unparalleled happiness.

I’d be lying if I said I don’t miss feeling inspired by things I’ve never seen or done or felt. I still do. I still day dream. I pine for pining and the way it was so nonjudgmental and rooted in a faith for something unknown and unconfirmed. That unadulterated belief – it feels so good.  I still seek this and hope to feel it. Just now, I won’t dismiss people with simple wants the way I used to. I’m one of you now. I am a little jaded. I seek a real joy, not the idea of it. I get it. It’s the little things. The pure, ego-less things that grow that feeling of peaceful bliss. The gratefulness for the plausible, a happy reality rather than a happy dream.