Vent, The Melodic Blue
Updated: Mar 2
“How Many Lives Can Be Lived In One?” a interesting line from a new song I’m gearing up for a release soon.
Another question I have is what do you do when you want to see the world burn? On this new song I deliberately dissed 3-4 people. Two people I name dropped. Scary thing is I don’t care what comes of it. What people don’t know or understand is that I can be a cruel and cold-hearted person. People like to stamp me as a person that is incapable of being an asshole. Thing is everyone has that capability, and everyone has done it multiple times in our lives whether we accept it or not. I just know myself. Historically speaking it’s difficult to get myself out of that space, once in that space. If I’m really pissed off. I been reckless as of late because I have no way of releasing my emotions inside. I haven’t had this attitude in a long time. When feeling intensely it’s usually me isolating/not feeling like I belong or self harm. Now that transformed into pure anger.
I stayed up reading old text messages from God couple nights ago and I guess they felt my presence and figured I was reminiscing so they gave me a new message. Out of nowhere at midnight I felt extreme anger. As if my back was against the wall and fighting everyone. My warmode and survival instincts was triggered. Anxiety and Paranoia kept me up majority of the night.
My little brother WI$E told me last night, God is telling you to get prepared.
MULTIPLE people I haven’t heard from in years in different eras of my life have spoken to me about the same topics in conversation without me saying anything. These are signs that can’t be ignored.
Survival mode is one thing, but warmode is a different feeling. In college, at CSU Monterey Bay, my sophomore year, I had beef with the Kappa Sigma fraternity. I was directing the mending monologues play production and during tech rehearsal they disrespected a few of my cast members. They also kicked us out of a rehearsal space. Tensions was high. I approached their president by myself to have a conversation and we didn’t reach a resolution. I demanded an apology. I reported them. Nothing came about. I was followed a few times as I walked around campus. Some of those cast members got taunted after the show was done and over with. I had people, best friends, turn on me and lost everything multiple times. No stranger to war.
I believe currently I have no safe spaces to fall apart. Thats my current reality. A friend of mine, recently expressed thats what therapists are for. My issue is if I can afford one. I just got a grief counselor. Thats a great start and I’ma have my first session mid-march. It's still ways away because of performance conflicts.
The pressure I’m feeling is so immense I don’t know what to do with myself nowadays. I been recording so many songs desperately trying to release everything in a healthy manner. However, just like how we consume junk food or unhealthy foods to satisfy a craving, we must let things out in unhealthy ways sometimes. Time and place for censorship.
Adversity doesn’t always equal productivity. Sometimes it kills the creativity.
That’s the bone I had to pick with a potential publisher I had to let go for my fourth poetry book. With heartbreak after heartbreak I just don’t have the emotional and mental capacity to finish in a timely manner. Especially when I have major deadlines to meet for my next 3-4 musical albums. Their concern was and I quote, “but we are losing THE Chris Siders. One of the greatest poets…I mean I know its a tough time for you but you can use those emotions and stories..” blah blah. No fucks given about where I’m at. People care until you ain’t got shit to provide. Cold hard truth. The thing is about poetry, that requires a lot more tact for me to produce. I can’t just conjure up a poem. There’s a particular language I use when creating. With rap, I’m more free flowing. I truthfully give less fucks about how something comes across. For example there a couple disses on my first album. I just didn’t name drop. When I was in my old group in my poems I definitely name dropped.
On a car today I saw on the way to grieve with someone whom just lost their father a couple months ago says: “Be an engine for positive change.” However what if you are missing parts of that engine and people still expects to use you as means of proceeding forward? I take joy and love in providing when I have it. When I don’t and it feels there’s a deliberate expectation it makes me shut down.
My capacity to help with this funeral is damn near non-existent. I feel horrible. My mom and sister shouldn’t be dealing with this alone, but if I dont get it together I may not be here. Somethings as small as food is a trigger. Once again asking if my mom ate. If not then i’ll go walk somewhere to get food. One night, we got into an argument over food and other things then on the way to pick something up we both had a breakdown. After a few minutes she kept saying, “okay… okay… i’m over it now. No more crying.” This is from a black woman that has seen the absolute worst the world has to show. I feel weird wanting to cry and grieve more but she’s not there. Then if I lose my shit at home everyone is going to be concerned in ways that aren’t nurturing. I feel restricted everywhere I go.
I’ve gone through too much in the past three months. From verbal, emotional abuse, to my father’s passing, financial stresses etc. I’m beyond wanting to feel okay. I want to release and in whatever way the world sees it is none of my fucking concern. My tolerance for giving a fuck has significantly been lowered.
"Have you ever been punched in your mothafuckin face? What you say? Oh, you haven't? Alright, wait."