What we’ve become, where will we go?

If I asked for you to walk backwards and enjoy the scenery in a post-modern world of hallucination and deprived modernism, would you, seeing how far we have come, consider it at the least? Or would you so blindly bat an eye at the thought like a patron of the arts to a vagabond among a cluttered city street? I would like to say you have matured past that stage of complete nihilism towards childhood dreams and words misunderstood, but I am sorry to say the image you have now reflects the wealthy patron of broken hearts.

Are my words too metaphorical for you or just not that important? Or is it the history of violence and intensity of my passion that throws you off? Who cares?

There is a great chunk of both our lives living in silence and whether it is ever to be spoken of is up to the architect, not the artist. But the architect is an artist at heart and we as artists have a great tendency to be irrational. So, was the moment of silence of which we shared in complete and utter confusion of our beings an irrational afterthought to never be thought of again or was it more a turning point to only learn half of? I mean to say it seems we are no longer confused. We have a good footing upon which direction to step in. But are we really going to let something so important to our morphing of who we are, where we have gone and where we are going to be left in silence? I believe the more we understand something, the more intelligent we become. And does that not make perfect sense?

So here I am, not the battered, medicated psyche patient you kissed four, maybe five years ago.  No. Here I am, the artist I have been dreaming of. There you are, the architect who can finally adore herself the way she deserved. Matured? Definitely. Healed? Pretty sure. Speaking? No. Why? Somebody is scared and I know it’s not me, never was. So speak, child. So speak, you beautiful influence. So speak and let your impact be heard. And when your dust settles, the air you breathe will be much cleaner and a piece of your puzzle in life will silently fall into place. You’ll be that person you’ve always wanted when you start to live life with no regrets. Here’s a start; quit regretting me.

Mike Detelj Speaks Out

The following below are responses to a series of questions I will be asked during a video interview about the affects of anti-depressants. The video is going to be a simple short video for you-tube, non-profit and solely for educating anyone interested on the impacts of anti-depressants and such. Because not all of my answers will make it into the video, I took the time to fully answer them in text, as I write much better than I speak. Enjoy and feel free to leave any comments.

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Did you have thoughts of suicide (or a suicide attempt) while on antidepressant medication?

 

 

While on antidepressants, I was known to myself as nothing more than a face in a crowd, moving through the motions of a scandalous teenage world…hoping that one day I would know how to feel again. Everyday a white erase board became one of the most entertaining objects to stare at. Problem is all I could envision upon this whiteboard were math problems. There was nothing more to think about while on this cocktail of thoughtlessness. The only time I had alone…I spent scratching at my chest in anger, screaming at the top of my lungs to music, and cursing the one they call “god.” So, did I have thoughts of suicide on anti-depressants; More than you can imagine. Did I attempt to kill myself; No. But I did from time to time, hit my head multiple times, along with the scratching of my chest. So technically, either way, there was a form of self mutilation.

In retrospect, do you see a connection between the medication and the suicidal ideas?

 

At times, the thoughts I had seemed to derive off the knowledge that I was on Prozac. In my head, I was saying, “I am on an antidepressant, so this means I must be pretty depressed.” And I think that is the exact place where these thoughts seem to begin to evolve. Accompany this with the medical terms, “severe depression” and “suicidal ideology”, and you have yourself what seems to be a severe mental problem, when really they are all just a phase that became drugged and prolonged. It is because we know we are on something for something like this that our imagination begins to run wild into a deep forest of feelings containing desperation and deprivation, continuing to snowball into this “Oh my god, my life sucks” thought. These thoughts probably wouldn’t be there without these medications also having a presence. I am speaking on behalf of a teenager put onto a medication. I believe the same can’t be said for a young child at the age of five or six. They are much younger and lack an understanding that teenagers have about certain things. If you put a child on some type of drug like this at such a young age, they will grow thinking this drug is a necessity for their life, and without it, they aren’t the same. They don’t even know what this drug does but they see it as something there to help them, which means later on, they will want to know what is wrong, probably fight to get off the medication after they find out and if they fail, angst thoughts will evolve into something much more because of their new knowledge of it. It is a weird cycle of evolving misunderstandings that some may look back on and learn from as I have done or some may never understand that part of their life.

Any friends/others you’ve observed with similar reactions to that kind of medication?

 

Throughout the years on these medications, I had met many a person on many medications for depression and ADHD. The ADHD ones, while on their medications, seem to be very “Eh, whatever” about anything not seen as a necessity, lacking motive to do much other than what they had to. Their attitude towards life isn’t that great, either, though they may have a perfectly enjoyable life. Some seem lazier than others but all have the tendency to ask “why” about things they don’t understand, argue their points, and then speak their mind on the overall subject. All these views are over the past three to four years I have been watching and analyzing the medicated teenager. It seems as though the ones strictly on just Ritalin, Concerta, Adderall or whatever, still have a mind of their own and do their own thing. But what is interesting are the ones on both an amphetamine and antidepressant. They seem to do what ever anyone else around is doing, enjoying it, laughing with it and all but put them alone, and they don’t do anything constructive or seemingly enjoyable. It’s like a light bulb that is waiting for someone to turn it on.

What’s it like not being on anti-depressants?

 

To not be on anti-depressants…isn’t easy at first. The time when my thoughts of suicide were most intense was when I was off of them combined with the pressures of the world around me. Like I said, the anti-depressants didn’t make the thoughts go away but instead regulated them. So when I had initially taken myself off of them, I literally had no control and seemed to be attacked every class period by thoughts of hurting. But this is all because, over time, I had forgotten what is was like to be “okay.” I had not realized until later that I was “okay” the whole time, and that these drugs were preventing my ability to grow mentally/emotionally. Almost the same can be said for when I relieved myself of Ritalin and all other ADHD medications. I literally had forgotten how to learn and focus on my own. Ritalin and others actually do work like they should, it’s just their side-effects cause many things ranging from lack of appetite to depression. Combine that with an anti-depressant and you have someone deemed as “emotionless.” That to me doesn’t really mean lack of all emotion but rather more of an apathy towards emotion as a whole. You still feel it, but it takes more of the good things in life to matter and less of the bad. You overall are disoriented as a human being and have little control over your mind. Psychologists and therapists may beg to differ…but who better to tell you than a person five years off medication he was on for eleven. There are no professionals but the ones like me. There are no voices to listen to other than ours. I have rebuilt my processes and conquered the turmoils of these unnecessary drug’s after effects.

How has being off them enhanced your ability to create — to paint, to write, to do music?

 

When I think of how these medications affected my creativity…I curse them more than anything else in this world. Before the anti-depressants, my body had become incredibly accustomed to the “dosage of speed”, as I like to call it, given to me daily. I had grown eventually to discover my creative side, which didn’t really surge until the death of my father. But come time when Prozac came into my life, nothing really mattered in terms of writing or drawing because I didn’t want to do it any more. And when I did, all I could create were these horribly in-your-face, cliché thoughts of violence towards religions and people including myself and close ones. So, there I was, unable to escape from these thoughts, and when I thought I was escaping, I really was just making them more visible by putting them on paper. This “coping skill” was more of an excuse for my angst to show. I remained this way until I finally took myself off these medications. The art that followed…there was none. I couldn’t even remember how to put words together to make decent poetry, let alone draw. Since then, I have rebuilt my process of creativity from scratch. And this is frustrating. This is frustrating because I could be at a higher level in terms of art right now. Who knows, I could be a master of still life drawing already, because at the rate I was going, it seemed inevitable, it was all I wanted to do. Though I am frustrated, I am also grateful. I am grateful because I am at a better understanding of where to go in terms of art now. I have also found a form of art that I have more in common with, one which I can truly express myself with; Abstract Expressionism. Furthermore to expand my self expression, I am now working on installation projects and such that pertain to my teenage years and major events amongst them to let others have a better understanding of the world’s impact upon me. So all in all…the medications have both hindered and propelled my art and knowledge of it. Hindered by holding me back at the times in which I was on them but propelled me since the knowledge to follow the period of recovery has given me a better understanding of who I am and what I need to do to get to where I want.

Poem- “Shhh.”

What is this thing? I think they call it a heart, but it’s barely beating and it hasn’t gotten me very far. As a matter of fact, I haven’t taken more than one step away from the broken human being I was four and a half years ago. The arteries are splitting down middle and capillaries have begun to burst. With this red-hot blood of love spitting and spinning everywhere, you think someone would slip on the spin art of my heart. But no, I stand too mature for the majorities and too small in physical form to get that double take. I could never truly apologize for not fitting in, but rather I have to thank you for being so pitiful and close minded, people. I am glad to live amongst the lost and completely corrupted.

And to those who look past my daunting emotionalism and slightly uneasy smile, the beautiful flaws in which only someone digging deep would ignore, you still aren’t very far but rather have just touched one of the hairs among this forever tan skin. And to those who get to dig a little deeper, I will forever have these walls of a castle so tightly secure and you can thank the blue-eyed, blond-haired nymphs in which I have had to endure for too long now. But I’ll never look back to them, not as much I look forward to you; the person who digs the deepest, putting my sureness of life on the brink of emotional base jumper status, bringing me to my knee with more than just diamonds but a throat full of song and what a beautiful one to sing.

Until there comes the day in which I can gently take the shovel from your hands, you beautiful thing who I’ll be so proud of, I will continue to secretly enjoy these moments of self loathing. More so, I will enjoy the fact that I can safely say no to anything I want with a smile gleaming so bright upon my face and that includes the drugs, the drinks, the sex, the thoughts of her, and the fear to follow. So quietly screaming into the drum of my ear; a fallen angel who’s own ear refused my answer to life. So quiet…the rustling of leaves as I drag it into the woods of my memories. So quiet; the sound of such potent liquid pouring amongst her disgusting pores. So quiet; the ash as it begins to rise, rebounding off the tips of branches as it climbs the pale air into the never-ending skies.

So quiet; my mind with you nowhere to be found.

-Mike Detelj

I’ve found it in the archives and annuls of my mind.

When I lay my head unto this pillow, I fear not the possibility of death but rather long for it. I can count her freckles, but get lost in her ever changing eyes. The way her jet black hair so smoothly wraps itself around me as if night were forever is the most comforting thing I have felt in the past three years…putting me to sleep like the prescription pills I never took. My drug, my love…will you be here forever? The girl of my dreams…everything I need smirks back at me and then, as quick as it came, the signal is lost and the satellite floats away on it’s path around my world.

I believe in the future. I believe in our future, girl halfway around my mind. Sleep has never felt so good nor have these drugs in which I have deprived myself of for far too long.

As you come closer, your image becomes more clear and your eyes so much more consistent in color. I didn’t know swimming through emerald was possible let alone so invigorating. The colors around me…..the colors around…..us. While we are underwater, let’s share this bubble and call it home. Together, we’ll float no matter how far apart we are, letting the current take control with the knowledge that one day you and I will meet. We are invincible…more so inevitable.

I’m in love with the girl inside my head, so in love.

 

 

One last time.

It’s funny how you think this is “our” blog….just thought I would point that out. What’s more funny is the fact that you think this is a game of control, power, and shit like that. Not even close, darling. This isn’t a game. Playing with someone emotionally isn’t a game…it’s a risk. Push me, I fucking dare you. Everything bringing you happiness can be taken away, I should know.

In reflection to you trying to maintain some part in my life, some “control”; stop. Please stop. There, I asked nicely.

In reflection to your comments on who treats you right; you wouldn’t know how I would treat you because you haven’t given this person the chance.

So, really…there is no comparison, for now you have Joe. Next year, maybe someone else. The year after that…who knows, who cares. Point is you won’t ever have me again and I am leaving it at that. I don’t know what makes you think that I am going to wait around like a poor sap who doesn’t know what he wants in life, so  instead he settles for what he has or waits for what he had to come back. You thought that was better than this; a strong minded, very real, down-to-earth, human being who knows what he wants and is over what he wanted? Are you crazy, girl? I don’t like being confused. I don’t like people who confuse me. I find answers when I need them and this is the answer I needed. Look, we aren’t even together, haven’t talked in two weeks and you still manage to find an argument. Why are you arguing with me, someone that isn’t even there, someone that doesn’t want to be there? Why are you now fighting for me? And you are, no matter how you look at it, you know inside what you are doing. For your sake, and my future, leave me alone. There is no point in even responding to your immature little messages other than to feed your addiction to my attention. And the common addict would disagree with being called one, by the way. Ask my mother.

You want some advice? Here;

Avoid me in person at all costs, be single, stop leading people on, don’t think about a future with someone, care for yourself, eat, sleep, breathe. You need to remember, I am a couple years ahead of you in age and lifetimes ahead in life with all I have been through. I have been playing in this game of girls much longer. You still are figuring the rules out. So just keep doing what you are doing, you don’t hurt me anymore and never will again. Repeat after me; “I am lost.” Because you are. I will let you know, the feeling of finding yourself is unlike anything you have ever felt. In regards to your friend doing exactly what you have done to me…the one with the ring; tell her I feel bad for her and him…you guys are not allowing your mentality to evolve nor becoming any stronger of a person. You guys are just scared to be alone, like eighty percent of married people around these days. Congratulations to her and him, though, for maintaining this horrific view of the word “love.”

“Silence is Golden.” In response to that- separation is platinum. It’s everything we need.

 

 

 

Maybe I wasn’t being clear enough…

You’re a joke. Get out of this place I consider beautiful because the ugly doesn’t belong and I am not talking about physical form, my fiend. Every amazing day I have seems to be brought down whenever some thought of or interaction with you happens. I don’t want your notes, I seriously forgot what you look like and that is the best part. I don’t want your “one day’s” and “for now’s”, I never will. I don’t have any pictures of you, I am not leading another girl on into nothing like you are him. You are gone, buried in the past…and if you have been keeping up, you should have seen this coming. This is what you deserve and all I have to give. My words of kindness are too much of a helping hand and I truly only wish to hinder you and your little escapades of feelings, emotions, lust, friendship, sex and “happiness” in your little “double-dutch” life. I do not want to hear from you again, I have priorities and successes to complete before I’m dead, one of which is the deletion of you, but your being a distraction really does only hold me back. My girl is out there somewhere, and you aren’t her…you look nothing like her, the girl of my dreams, so get me out of your head because you had your chance at changing that image and completely ruined it. There are no second chances at what I had to offer when you left because now you are just far too gone. And I look forward to the day you try to come back into my life because it will be funny to hear about the look on your face when nobody knows where I am. Hint, Hint. Don’t call, I blocked your number. Feel it; the pain of loss. Envy it; My strength and knowledge. Yeah, I called all the shots in this outcome, and right now consider me psychic.

In other words, if some of that wasn’t easy for you to understand and put a dumbfound look on your face as if you were saying, “What is he talking about”; Fuck off.

“Let’s Make This Our Last Goodbye…”-The Contortionist

“Father Figure”-Mike Detelj

New Video. About God and the lack of my real father.

It’s funny…

I hate you, ha…like I said I wouldn’t. But hey, I am being honest.  I never want to hear your voice again and each time I see your mother around town it just pushes me farther away. Hate is a pretty strong word so I take that back…how’s the next level down, though?

-Mike Detelj.

SWVF #2 “Your last Chance”- Mike Detelj

The second Spoken Word Video File by Mike Detelj. Ironically, no words are spoken in this one. This is because I wish to immerse you into your own thoughts on what you are looking at and how it relates to the title. Soon to come is a version with vocals but for now, just get…lost.

This Is Hopeless Romanticism

So stuck…just quietly sitting there, waiting to be removed are the thoughts of you. Like cobwebs built up by a plethora of nothingness, so seemingly never ending. I found the place in which I am to reside, in terms of my mentality, but cannot say I am totally one hundred percent there. So I made my deposit on the carpet in the corner of this closet whose door seems so forever full of skeletons I have yet to unveil.

The truth of my being no real part of anything stable in life, besides the game of chasing after myself, has played it’s game upon you. I have no fear that this was just another chance for nothing or pure self-development and reassurance in the thought of which I have no place near the warmth of love.

This is raw, pure emotion through sweat and spit, paint and poetry. This is everything I want to feel when connected with another. This is everything I can never give. Everything the drugs have ever kept out. The numbing of myself was my biggest mistake, as I evolve at paces no man has heard of. Though this is all of this, this is much more; this is my hopeless romanticism at its brightest, shining its light out into the empty ocean of life all the while not caring of how much it has truly deprived me of.

I’ll be complete and content one day, with all thoughts of you gone…no memory of who you were, what we did or where we wanted to go. Farewell……..