I JUST SPAT MY WATER
Well that’s not very in love with me of you
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inflammatory essay no. 10, jenny holzer
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Susan Sontag, from “Reborn: Journals and Notebooks, 1947-1963″
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Elevator to the Gallows (1958) dir. Louis Malle
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It’s been a long time since my last entry. I worked hard for the entire month to get the job i wanted. I got it. And still something’s off. Everything. Every person I know, from family to friends, all so happy for me. Congratulations all over, more than what I get for my birthday. And I can’t feel it. I don’t feel happy or like celebrating anything. I traced my plan to this point and it didn’t occur to me that it could get the job and I’d have to think after that as well. I have to think now. And I don’t have the urge to. From fixing my documents to get paid to finding a place to live. It doesn’t move me. Doesn’t make me feel. I still carry this profound sensation that im a half ghost walking among living people living their lives. With purpose and meaning. I was thinking maybe this is how Im gonna carry my life forever. Half awake, half dead. I heard lots of times how brave I was for coming here and doing all thing by myself, tho I know this wasn’t impressive or important considering my mind and how I feel. I have nothing to lose, therefore nothing to be afraid of. It’s a dangerous condition, but I also don’t fear that. I was born very impulsive, and didn’t learn how to control that completely. But its fine, since I really am not afraid. I feel loneliness. Boo gets offended if I tell her that cause Im surrounded by so many people, it’s true, but no one will ever be like him, and him not being in this planet anymore, I simply can’t be completely myself ever again. I am what’s left from everything that has happened to me, Im like crumbs from old bread. Drafts from a drawing never finished. I look outside every single night before I start the long battle against my sleeping problem searching for him and for my old self. My mom said once that there’s never going to be a version of my life where this didn’t happen, only after. It’s going to be five years in June. Seven I first attempted in September. Everything will always be something that happened. I think I learned in parts how to endure, but asking me to be happy for staying alive sounds too inadequate to me.
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did someone say versace prince? 👑
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okay but who asked
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i want you to be addicted to me. i want you to have withdrawals when im not around. to think about me constantly. to need my voice, my touch all the time. i want you to need me, crave me & be obsessed with me. make me your god & i'll show you how i repay your devotion.
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January 29th
I moved. It's my first night at my new temporary house and I'm going to sleep alone in the silence. It still doesn't feel real. It's like I just came to visit Boo again. But with 4 massive trash bags and 3 cardboard boxes. That's how much space my life takes. I never had many clothes or things in general, so it was kinda easy to pack everything. I left behind a bunch of stuff that is important, tho, like my art supply. That I can only get after I move to my own new apartment. Never before my life depended so much on myself. That's what supposed to mean being an adult, I believe. Thing is that we still don't understand each other that much, me, myself, and I. And for this to be okay, we gotta work together. I have no option but to take care of me, my mind, my body. I think I finally put myself in a situation so extreme just have to survive it. There's no space for cutting here, for major crisis. Ths needs to work. It must work.
I walked too far to not take the jump right now.
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Rise and Monty Kissing, (1980) Nan Goldin
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I think I'd very much like new tumblr friends. I love kpop, emo music, kinks, hentai and poetry. My inbox is open 🖤
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