The diary of Seth Alexander

I cannot find it

 I'm struggling to remember why I started this. What was it that made me take that first step? Why did I reach for something I wasn't even sure existed. I took a risk I wasn't even sure I'd survive and I want to remember why.

That feeling is inside of me, I've felt it before and I want to feel it again, but I can't find it anymore.

I keep looking inside myself. Asking the questions. What do I have to lose? What am I so scared of? Why don't I just try and see?

Take that leap and push yourself further than you can see because there is so much more out there. Out of sight. Out of mind. In another life. One you haven't chosen yet. One you're too scared to choose yet.

Inside the lines is safe. My comfort zone is safe. What happens if I stray too far? What happens if I jump and fall and plummet? What if I crash and I break and I burn? What if I fail?

If I don't try, I can't fail.

If I don't jump, I won't fall.

If I don't crash, I won't break.

...What if I'm already broken?

What if all I'm doing is picking up the pieces?

Trying to make something out of this mess that I've left myself in.

Because I did leave myself in it. I didn't put myself here, but I sure as hell got comfortable.

I sat in that darkness and I let it sink inside me. So deep that I can barely understand where I start and the darkness ends.

I sat in that silence for so long, I forgot how to use my voice.

Cracked ribs, cut skin, bleeding heart.

This is all I think of myself.

Empty. Hollow. Desperate and pleading.

You see strength because I climbed out of that pit, but I still feel stuck down there.

You see strength because I took that step into the unknown, but I feel lost and I don't know if I can find my way out here.

Here where people can see me. Where they hear the words I struggle to speak. See the person I have barely even started becoming.

The first draft. The sketch before the line art. Half formed thoughts and a light so dim it flickers when I speak.