lauriewins

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I wonder who I will have to show myself to. The connection doesn’t exist even after I feel the pain of simulating the experience of sharing. I have always been alone. I have always known my selves. I have always liked it this way. I have always been alone. I have always desired closeness. I have always rebuked its advances. I have always liked things enough the way they have been. I have always been unhappy. I have always feigned unhappiness. I have always sat with discontentment as a friend, because I will not choose another. I have always crumbled by cliffs. I have always chosen myself for love and for pain. I have always been me and with me and with no others and with others who do not know me and with others whom I imagine knowing and having know me and liking. But things will change, and this I know. The agony of not being able to undo sharing is enough to strike strong fear in me, but even that is not enough: the will to change is all encompassing. This all feels wrong and not enough; discomfort is rife. I feel like no one knows me. I have felt disconnected all my life, just enough. Like all the will for connection has been for nought: no one knows me and I know no one; my so-called connections are shallow and without layers. I don’t know if this is normal and everyone feels this way. I wonder if there is something different with me. I had some crisps, and then a handful of nuts, and called it a day.

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the subtle sweetness of bruised fruit 

fiona apple photographed by naomi kaltman for esquire magazine, august 1997 

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florida keys   2013

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William Eggleston, Girl with Red Hair, 1970

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@22-cal

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Can Dagarslani

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Priorities.

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Anthony Vaccarello S/S 2012 

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Parc Femme

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