alternativefeelings - Tumblr blog

[alternativefeelings]

obsessive routine

[alternativefeelings]

i need more pillows

[alternativefeelings]

I made a meme.

[alternativefeelings]

When you realize you’ve made everything worse. I’m really sorry.

[alternativefeelings]

Alternative

[alternativefeelings]

I had a dream.

I was offered to die. A bullet in the chest. I had a choice: yes or no. Quite simply.

My instinct came first: I was afraid to die, I didn't want to. The instinct lasted a split second; in fact, I did want to die. For a long time.

I said yes. I was shot, right in the abdomen. They say you wake up when you dream about such brutal things. That the brain can't imagine death. But mine tried.

I think I felt the bullet go through my body very briefly, but I didn't wake up. And the feeling that followed swallowed everything up: I fell backwards, slowly, filled with an intense feeling of lightness. As the bullet went out of my body and I fell backwards in slow motion, I was floating. "I'm free".

Then I see myself on the ground. I'm not dead, I'm in pain I think. I look at the hole in my flesh, I'm not dead. Disappointment. I want to reach again this intense feeling of lightness, this idea that it's finally the end.

[alternativefeelings]

[alternativefeelings]

meeting

[alternativefeelings]

true love

[alternativefeelings]

[alternativefeelings]

…

[alternativefeelings]

just touch you

[alternativefeelings]

you're as temporary as my need for oxygen

[alternativefeelings]

where are u

[alternativefeelings]

fuck u

[alternativefeelings]

“Think of someone you want to touch whom you cannot touch, someone forbidden. Think of a room where there is nothing except the two of you: still, you cannot touch them. Think of the heat between two hands about to touch, the language that exists in that silence.”

— Chelsea Hodson, from Tonight I’m Someone Else: Essays; “A Simple Woman”

[alternativefeelings]

“Think of someone you want to touch whom you cannot touch, someone forbidden. Think of a room where there is nothing except the two of you: still, you cannot touch them. Think of the heat between two hands about to touch, the language that exists in that silence.”

— Chelsea Hodson, from Tonight I’m Someone Else: Essays; “A Simple Woman”