Isabella Elena

(Our eyes absorb light which then send signals to our brain to interpret them, a natural processes of perception, but sometimes I grow tired of the blaring flame—of my circuits firing)

Even as my eyes are shut, I see light, my brain in overdrive, and when the heat, energy, and tension have nowhere to go, the fumes suffocate me, covering everything which surrounds it in a blanket of ash. The darkness settles in and I can no longer see the flames but I feel the heat and the smoke intoxicate me.

T​his is what it feels like to live in my mind: at times its warm—life-giving perhaps—but others, its leads only to my demise. I resurrect and self-destruct with the same incessant thought, it merely depends on sufficient ventilation.

I suppress how I react to an abundance of stimuli because it seems abnormal. Its overwhelming—a heightened awareness that is both a gift and a burden. My happiness is elation, euphoria, my anger is uncontrollable rage, and my sadness is a heaviness of the heart that causes a complete absence of light.

T​here’s a word I discovered the other day. Sonder: the realization that we are all living complexities and within circumstances which differ from strangers in passing. It also recognizes that these strangers will never know, or care to know, or even realize the profundity of the infinite number of stories one could come in contact with.

T​his, to me, is a beautiful sentiment, but also representative of how I experience my life. I look at those around me, not in passing, but in all-consuming observation. Everything is symbolic, for better or worse…

I have too many thoughts and perceptions about all of the minute stimuli. Whether I realize it or not, these unprocessed ponderations turn into a tight, debilitating ball of anxiety. When I acknowledge them, enabling them to pass by as those I see on the street, they circulate my energy in a productive way. They curate my creativity and develop a peaceful intentionality as I move through my day.

I think creatives perceive the world with a hyperawareness which enables the production of works that are capable of invoking emotion within others, but when they are not channeling this energy, it suffocates.

To “write as incessantly as I think” will allow my energy to flow. My vehement experience of the world is one that I am grateful for whole-heartedly (although, not in every moment).

Nevertheless, the depth of my feelings are a gift, and writing is my therapy and thus, I will always return.

Much love,

Isabella