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"So I am still and I am silent, because if I open my mouth, I may never stop screaming."

- Franz Kafka

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i was taught at a very young age that i am unlovable, that my feelings are too big. that never went away.

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I wanted very much not to be where I was. In fact part of the trouble seemed to be that where I was wasn’t anywhere at all. My life felt empty and unreal and I was embarrassed about its thinness, the way one might be embarrassed about wearing a stained or threadbare piece of clothing. I felt like I was in danger of vanishing, though at the same time the feelings I had were so raw and overwhelming that I often wished I could find a way of losing myself altogether, perhaps for a few months, until the intensity diminished. If I could have put what I was feeling into words, the words would have been an infant’s wail: I don’t want to be alone. I want someone to want me. I’m lonely. I’m scared. I need to be loved, to be touched, to be held. It was the sensation of need that frightened me the most, as if I’d lifted the lid on an unappeasable abyss.

Olivia Laing, from The Lonely City: Adventures in the Art of Being Alone

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Source Pinterest

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Fighting for my life trying to find a phone or tablet with a headphone jack. Fighting for my life trying to find a laptop with a cd rom. Fighting for my life trying to get more than one usb port or, god forbid, an hdmi. Fighting for my life trying to find any electronics that haven't been streamlined into flimsy chastity belts with the structural integrity of a sopping sheet of paper which require me to buy 3 extra devices (each with their own separate charging requirements) all because some silicon valley jackass somewhere decided holes were a bad thing.

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In another universe I was happy

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“When you die, trust me, the most difficult person to leave behind is yourself.”

— Chuck Palahniuk, Doomed

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— Hélène Cixous, from “Three Steps on the Ladder of Writing.”

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i only recognize my heartbeat

when it is too fast, or too loud.

the only time my hands

feel like they belong to me

is when they're making me bleed.

my voice only sounds like my own

when it is raw with grief.

i guess what i'm trying to say is

i've never felt at home in my body

unless i was drowning in discomfort.

i don't know what safety feels like

when it isn't accompanied by pain.

-mars

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marlena by julie buntin

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Jenny Han

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