Musicals

by , Monday February 27, 2017
2 Likes
Musicals

We love them right?

So I've debated over posting this; I wrote this before Christmas Last year when I was feeling a panic attack creeping upon me, so yeah... here it goes. 

 

I want people to realize something first. I am not a spoiled brat, I don’t get a bunch of money whenever I want, or get the fanciest phone out there. I also am not poor, I have a nice house and all that jazz. Now what I want to get to is Musicals. I love Musicals, the lights, the orchestra, the actors and actresses, these are my escape along with books. Most people don’t understand how my brain works, and I have tried to explain before to my friends.

I have stories running through my head 24/7, sometimes with a plot and characters, others with people I don’t know, with no words or anything, but there is still a story somewhere deep within. I feed this by reading writing prompts avidly, so it is really my fault. Another thing about my mind, is there is constantly a song running through it that I have to sing – maybe more than one or two songs at a time that my brain keeps switching between. So my brain switches from stories to songs, to stories, to songs, to having to do homework, to songs, to stories, to piano, to stories, to songs; and that is basically my day.

For me, musicals are my release, and I am finding more often, that I have to listen to them or I get to trapped within my own mind. I can’t express my feelings through words how I want to, my thoughts get jumbled when I try to voice my opinion. So I go and listen to Phantom of the Opera or Les Mis; musicals that have a sad melody. And to me that helps enormously. Right now, I am sitting in study hall, thinking to myself trying to come up with something to say, not able to think properly because my friend has youtube on next to me, and then there is Christmas songs playing, and then as I said before, my brain is coming up with so much stuff at once, and I CANT KEEP UP. I want to go into a corner, pull up a book and read – preferably a sad book or a stressful book that can take my feelings and put them into words for me sense I can’t do that myself.

Even now, I am trying to write down my feelings, and yet I am not getting through what I want to get through to you. There is just too much going on. And then I want to go into my corner and put on music. Musicals help soooo much, you guys have no idea. Just like the books, I can connect my feelings to the music, and just let go. I am not a crier, I don’t like crying, I feel like a wimp if I do cry, so I don’t. I probably haven’t cried sense I had my last panic attack, which was about two months ago. The only reason I cried then though, is because I felt helpless, trapped within my own mind, not able to say what I want with the right words – because there are none that can describe what I want to say. So I don’t say anything, let the panic attack go away slowly to where I can think clearly.

Right now, I can feel a panic attack creeping up on me, and I don’t want that to happen. I write so it doesn’t happen. People have asked me why I write so graphic sometimes, the answer is, that is the only way I know how to put my feelings onto paper, make the story go into chaos, and maybe my brain wont.

Sometimes, or most, I act like I am dumb, like I don’t get it, because of the same reason I am writing this – so I don’t go into a panic attack anytime soon. Because it hurts me when I can’t voice my opinion, it hurts when my brain is so full of crap that I can’t think, it hurts when people look down on me because I can’t voice my opinion when they expect me to, it hurts when I can’t listen to music – because that is the only way I can escape! I could write a whole long list of the things that hurt me, but even that wont be enough. I don’t think anything will be enough.

My life isn’t the most stressful life out there, but it has its challenges. Like feeling that people expect me to be a great piano player because my mom and my brother are so amazing, so I work, and I work, and try to get better at it, but at the same time, I know that it isn’t enough, that I will never be as good as my brother. The same goes with drawing, or writing. I look at so many other people and wonder what they think of my art or writings, and I know that it isn’t as good as it should be, and that pains me. My best friend and I had an unspoken rivalry in the 8th grade about who was better at art, and I got better though that rivalry, even though there really wasn’t a rivalry. I had to be the best, I felt the need to be the best. That was when my first panic attack hit, and at the time I didn’t know what was going on in that class, the feeling of helplessness was overwhelming. And now, in the 10th grade, I am faced with the same friend, who I have come to accept that she is also great, or even better at art then I am, is now a great writer too. But that’s an internal struggle that most don’t want to hear about.

Most of the things that stress me out is school, my parents, my friends, writing. I can’t seem to get away from any of that though, and writing is the only way I know how to voice my thoughts, and that also stresses me out. I can’t do anything; my brain stops me when I try. But I put a smile on my face and pretend like everything is fine, that I am fine, that my mind and thoughts don’t pull me down, but they do. God help me.

But I am ranting, so I will stop, even if this is just the skin layer of what I wanted to say. Thanks for baring with me.icle here

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