damien-demian

[damien-demian]

Loss of Habit I thought that I missed you, your thought process, the presence, the mannerism and the ramblings,like sandpaper and modern architecture. Your reactions like those of venus fly trap and your humour like an insular group of global dignitaries. Some words of wisdom, some of hypocritical idiocy and most just sarcastic dressings on your truth. Painting,demonising,mistakes and apologies, normalcy, allegations and disappointment. Beg for forgiveness, not to forget the pattern which pointed inwards now.  Us? Them? You. Me.  Ergo,Ego,Amigo? I thought I missed you, I just missed the habit of you. Apologies, I am not who you thought I was, but I can not be the “I” in your truth.  -Sylvie.

[damien-demian]

discipline is self care

self care isn't just face masks and bubble baths, it's also doing your assignment in advance so you won't pull an all nighter before the deadline, cooking at home instead of ordering out; discipline is an act of self love and care

[damien-demian]

edward hopper / jenny slate

[damien-demian]

Skip your meds and be the next Albert Camus

[damien-demian]

yesssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss since like forever ig lmaoo

true friendship is making up headcanons together and crying

[damien-demian]

— Oscar Wilde, from the uncensored version of ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’

[damien-demian]

Who are you?

You say a name

You didn't even choose.

[damien-demian]

Studying evolutionary biology is just inducing awe of creation in me and making me feel like a tiny speck, insignificant really about my existence. My human tendency to think about myself as important is so greatly challenged by the vastness and antiquity of the universe it's comforting in a way, again to lead me to ask why do we exist and is there, if any, purpose of life?

Also bacteria are tiny wtf

[damien-demian]

mirrors are crafty.

Margaret Atwood, You Are Happy; from ‘Tricks With Mirrors’

[damien-demian]

Joan Didion, The Year of Magical Thinking.

[damien-demian]

“I am not actually tired, but numb and heavy, and can’t find the right words.”

— Franz Kafka, from a letter to Felice Bauer, c. November 1912

[damien-demian]

when w. h. auden said “evil is unspectacular and always human” and ursula k. leguin said “this is the great treason of the artist: a refusal to admit the banality of evil and the terrible boredom of pain”

[damien-demian]

Times are changing

I can feel it

They came again but things changed

The way they hugged me and the way they kissed

It's different from the past

Times are changing and I've seen it now

I am not the child I was.

Sylvie.

[damien-demian]

Fame

She lit a cigarette, took in a long draw and exhaled deeply in an attempt to calm her

anxiety. “ It’s almost been a month, a whole month,” she paused to inhale the sweet

calming smoke, “ we’ve been fighting so frequently, even the kids.” she eyed the stray

cat, “ the youngest slept in class this afternoon, told the teacher that he couldn’t sleep

cause he thought his parents were gonna divorce.” her voice strained a little. She

leaned on the worn-out coloured wall for support, her sequinned dress in contrast to

the wall, “ he is eight, that boy, worried about fights.” She threw the cigarette on the

ground and put it off with her red heels. “Yesterday, the academy called cause my

oldest was caught in a fight and was to be taken to a hospital, they are 15, my phone

had died, so they called my wife,” she paused again, to wipe a tear, “that night she

yelled at me, for being irresponsible, as if it's only I who is the parent, my child cried

that night, wishing they had a normal family.” Her hair blew across blood-shot eyes,

she felt barbed wires in her throat, “ when I was 15, I wanted to be a famous writer, I

still do, I wanted to be famous, I still do, my dream is to be an author people adored,

my book to be critically acclaimed,” She exhaled deeply, “I am 35 now, I haven’t

achieved anything at all, I sent my manuscript to three publishers now, one rejected it

cause I am lesbian, the other wanted sex in return and the 3rd is-” she looked at her

worn and ugly face in the mirror kept at the roadside, “I don't even have hopes now. I

just wanted fame. Just fam-” She muttered as an AC unit fell from the flat above

crushing her to death.

Her wife picked up a call from the publishing house, they wanted to publish the

book.

It had been two years now, the wife stood near the grave. “She would never know her

book was famous,” she muttered as she placed the flowers, a single tear rolling down

her cheek.

Sylvie.

[damien-demian]

Crash. The glass shattered into millions of pieces. The cat woke up and ran to its hiding place. It was that time again. The boy chased after the cat, and found himself in a place where he could see the whole room while being hidden. Uncle came home, creating a scene. Shouting curses the boy was forbidden to even think of, yelling obscene things at the Father and throwing things around. Even Father joined in now. Both men yelling at each other. Grabbing by the collar and screaming. Ripped clothes and clenched jaws.Bare skin and bruises. Blood and flesh. Mother knew better than to intervene between two men with hurt egos. The boy closed his eyes and held the cat. All kinds of sounds came from that room, sounds of steel and metals, of glass and plastic. Thud. The sound of body. The boy looked again, Father had a hammer. The hammer had blood. Uncle was on the carpet. The carpet was now red. Mother was panicking.

Now, the aunt started to yell and curse. She knelt and wept, pointing fingers at Father and the ceiling. The hammer fell. So did Father. He had a knife sticking up his back. Mother was furious because her brother had been killed by her husband. Aunt looked at mother, a wicked smile on her face. They laughed. The boy ran, to where he did not know. The cat went to the room, mewing at the Mother.

-Sylvie.

[damien-demian]

To:

From:

It feels weird, not to address you as dear anymore, how have you been?

I dont think you’d even read my letter, why would you? Had I been a stranger you still might have, but my name, such a familiar name, two syllables of bittersweet memories. No, why would you even open this.

I heard that you found someone new. Never would have imagined my life to be like that song of Adele’s. Someone like you. I guess you found someone, I can never find someone like you again.

I love you. Yeah. I still do love you. No matter what, no matter why. I still think about us, we could have been so much more, but I guess the stars wrote a different destiny. I don’t think it could be any better than what we were.

How is that someone new, they treat you well? Do you laugh the same way like you did with me? Do they taste better than I do? Sweeter maybe? Heck ain't that a song as well?

Remember our very first date? We went to that crazy rollercoaster, holding hands so tightly, even if we fell, we fell together. I still have that picture of you, with a milk moustache. You had a silly little smile and it always melts my heart. We were twenty.

Now you're laughing, drinking and smiling at someone else. Someone new.

Was this all? I don’t even recall were the fracture lines appeared, i just noticed the fall. Maybe that itself was the fault line.

I am so sorry. So very sorry for not being there. Not seeing the fine lines and changes in the hues. The correct grammar and withdrawn smiles.

It hurts to know that you’re not mine anymore.

-Sylvie.

[damien-demian]

We do not see that the character of every day as identical.