justnotvibingtheoldurl

[justnotvibingtheoldurl]

“Darkness was a beautiful thing. The kiss of a shadow. A caress as soft as moonlight.”

— Mary E. Pearson, The Beauty of Darkness (Remnant #3)

[justnotvibingtheoldurl]

“There’s really no shortcut to forgetting someone. You just have to endure missing them everyday until you don’t anymore.”

— Unknown

[justnotvibingtheoldurl]

“I sometimes want to kick my car… Since I have this anger at material objects, which is manifestly irrational, it’s easier to me to think, when I get angry with people, that this is also irrational.”

— Derek Parfit, “An Interview”, Cogito, vol 9

[justnotvibingtheoldurl]

Née - Year 30.

I was growing tired of the lecture, all the things this apparent King of Broadway thought I should be. Christ I loved him to bits but I was not ready for this, I was mid dissection. I was an open wound, grieving, seeping with morose, what I imagined as bitter, bilious waste. I leaned on my door frame and whispered responses. They were naturally never enough, and I was naturally missing the point. My psychiatrist of 12 years didn't know me. My father and my mother were cunts. I was Sicilian. I knew things in my heart. I didnt want to be a lawyer, and if I did, and if I was experiencing anger from my stressed and fractured family, an ageing and fragile father - what I saw was fear. Emasculated fear and my own trepidation toward that I wasn't ready to pick up and leave behind. The world stood still and I saw his mouth move but some things, some things move faster than the speed of sound, and one of those things is self protection. Deeply rooted in biology - a topic he professed to know so much about. Toutefois, it was said. Though slowed, though refracted and broken - I heard it and as I did the world spun underneath me and I stood still. Through denial, somehow my eyelashes were thickening and the back of my throat stung. Retinae pickled in disbelief, staring dead straight at this demented, repugnant, pretentious elfin figure; I let out a soft "ha ha". "Ah !" he'd said, as I spoke of my Uncle whom I felt most alike. "Ah!" he'd said after having suggested he was my father. "Ah!" he'd said after I'd corrected him to say he was my mothers' brother. "Ah!" he'd said as I mentioned my father having a sibling that age too. "Ah!" he'd said with dilated, rolling pupils and a skull full of whatever he'd been swigging to sedate his own injured mind. Incest: the game the whole family can play !

I can't get it off my mind. I can't get it off my mind because he's not wrong. He's not even almost wrong. I cant let go because if I do I have to admit; it was incest and the whole family plays. The whole family did play. He did it. They covered it. She knew. She knew. He knew. I couldnt speak. I am gaslight. I am in the dark, surrounded by a circle of hideous and malevolent bastards, labelled Catholic and Christian and Niall and Finbarr and NIALL and NIALL and NIALL and NIALL and Suzanne and Eileen and Grainne and Tracey and its been six years since I disclosed and now. Six years of sitting through silent response as I sat through Twenty Four of silent abuse and I cannot help, I cannot help and I cannot hold back, my father refuses to do anything - and for who? Himself? My gran? I'm told its me and I dont realise how malicious and difficult I can be. How angry I'd have become or that I liked it.

So they, the McCloskeys. They do nothing. I starve myself and I cut my limbs and I wait for hours and hours and hours for love to enter or life to leave me and neither come and neither do and all I want is to be seen and accepted and loved and to run away. I want to run and be in a place where nobody knows my name, or that Incest was a game that the whole family played. "A G and T??" a cold glass, a knowing look with piercing blue eyes and a small smile broke through. Thank fuck for Samone

[justnotvibingtheoldurl]

Anaïs Nin, from “The Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1934–1939“

[justnotvibingtheoldurl]

“It’s easy for someone to joke about scars if they’ve never been cut.”

— William Shakespeare

[justnotvibingtheoldurl]

“I was scarred but I was not broken. Beneath my wounds I was still whole. Beneath my insecurities, beneath my pain, beneath my struggle, beneath it all, I was still whole.”

— Amy Harmon, A Different Blue

[justnotvibingtheoldurl]

“I’m not asking you to promise that everything will be perfect. Just promise me that you’ll try.”

— Landline, Rainbow Rowell

[justnotvibingtheoldurl]

prompt responses 260223

what is the biggest challenge you will face in the next 6 months

I

digging digging and digging digging and not knowing what I will find wanting to scream wanting to cry and roll my fists into the tightest balls and myself unto and screaming until i hear myself in the ditch screaming until hearing becomes listening i will listen to myself i will listen because nobody ever has. -sophiaemilyanthony II

does he love me does he not does he even want to know me i question this every time i begin to love

abandonment mistrust and abuse subjugation emotional deprivation

my biggest challenge will be to let that go. let it go and breathe. let it go and leave. they say that it is easier to dance with the devil you know but lets suppose that you hate fucking dancing its not easy its ruthlessly savage its a foxtrot with a headbang and a rollover backwards its nobody realising how scared you are its every body belittling that you feel it.

but he doesnt, he doesnt. he never has. hes never paused in silence with nothing to say. he's never heard me, walked away and not returned...like every past love has. he has listened to me and told me that it is hard to heal in the place that you have been hurt.

he has made me want to go to Berlin he has made me want to go to Melbourne he has made me want to see McQueen the NGV is waiting my life is fucking waiting and while i dont stare at the past but i've realised i let its hand rest on my shoulder and i let its cruelty seep through my skin letting that go. letting that go. -sophiaemilyanthony

[justnotvibingtheoldurl]

“In fact, had it been given to our eyes of the flesh to gaze into the conscience of others, we should be able to judge a man much more surely according to what he dreams, than according to what he thinks. There is will in thought, there is none in dreams.”

— Les Misérables, Victor Hugo

[justnotvibingtheoldurl]

five little harrys

[justnotvibingtheoldurl]

Harry at the 2021 Grammys | 📸 Jesse Lirola

[justnotvibingtheoldurl]

christ im not a huge pulp media follower but i adore this

“I feel like a different person, I feel ashamed of myself, it feels so personal! Such an intimate moment to be shared with so many people, I will be discussing this with my therapist at length, at length!”

— Harry after doing a shoey in Perth

[justnotvibingtheoldurl]

Developing via prompt idk welcome back

my favourite drink is the one serving the purpose it needs to. does it not beg the question of thirst hydration of who and where we came from to sit at this cafe at this bar stand at this water bubbler look in the mixer aisle push the button of this soda stream i feel seen with my latte i felt loved with a latte on saturday i felt the beginnings of change in a latte on friday i follow the rules with a carbonated low sugar drink i let this all melt away with a mid range chardonnay to make it less apparent that i'll sit on my couch and drink until i'm five steps away i wont take it to a gathering of university peers its not affordable because im on a pension im not unsure if theyre into wine or beers my favourite drink makes me arrive or disappear. -Sophia Emily

[justnotvibingtheoldurl]

𝙵𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝟸𝟸, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟻 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟺-𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟹

[ID: February 2. Incapable in every respect and completely so. END ID]

[justnotvibingtheoldurl]

“Death is the mother of beauty.” “And what is beauty?” “Terror”

— Donna Tartt, The Secret History

[justnotvibingtheoldurl]

Come… let us meet and make the coffee an excuse….