sanguineendangerment

[sanguineendangerment]

Year Seven.

I'm sorry. I was too much of a coward this year to write about you on that day, not even in private. I guess posting this in a space where I have no real presence is my own way of expressing that fear. Like shouting into a void. I miss you. That last April, I was thinking about you every day. It’s been over seven years now, and I still haven’t thought about anyone the way I thought about you. I miss Your smile… the way you encouraged me, the way you always found excuses to talk to me. It felt like you could tell when I was pretending to be okay, even when I couldn’t tell myself. Why was it always you who knew? My health’s been worse this year than last. The world feels colder every day. A part of me is relieved you didn’t have to see how cruel people have become, how openly they hurt each other now. But the selfish part of me still wishes you were here, just so I could take comfort in you. In having someone to care for again. I still listen to our song every year on that day. It still hurts just as much. But I guess it’s a “good” kind of hurt, the kind that reminds me of you, and everything I loved most about you. My own music has felt… Hollow lately. My creativity feels dry, like it’s left me entirely whenever I sit down to play. And my hands, my hands just don’t work the way they used to. I can’t type a single sentence without making at least one typo. And I think… I think my piano days are almost over. Just waiting for the world to take music from me completely maybe make me deaf next. That’d be fitting. Sometimes I wish I could just go in my sleep, peacefully. But I know it doesn’t work that way for people like me. I’ll keep fading slowly. I don’t have the will to fight. I don’t have the money to fight. I barely have enough just to survive. …I know you’d yell at me for saying things that. I’m sorry, Irina. I love you. I always will. No one else will ever hold my heart the way you did. Still, I know I have to keep trying, for you, and for me. So I’ll promise you again: I’ll keep going. Until my day comes on its own accord. I’ll stay strong, for you. And when that day finally comes, I know I’ll feel something real again. Thank you for blessing me with part of your life. I live for you.

As always,I am yours — Nikki

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赤い傘の男

[sanguineendangerment]

My hands don’t work like they used to.

Chronic insomnia has taken a toll on my health year after year. I still remember how, less than a decade ago, everything felt so smooth, so effortless playing the piano, experimenting with guitars and bass. My fingers glided with ease back then.

But now, the shaking, brought on by a mix of anxiety and health issues, reminds me of the very real possibility that one day, I may wake up and find my hands simply don’t work anymore. That terrifies me.

At my lowest, music has been my only comfort, whether I’m listening to it or creating it. What I make doesn’t judge me. Tt doesn’t hurt me. Yet, my anxieties just hit harder when I realize I’ll never be the person I wished I could be. I’ve always wanted to feel like I mattered, but that’s been hard, even with the love of some family and a handful of close friends.

I rarely speak, even to those closest to me. My greatest desire has always been simply to be heard. Yet another part of me, the voice in my mind, insists this yearning is foolish, worthless.

This past year, the shaking has gotten so bad that people have asked if I have Parkinson’s disease. While I can confirm it isn’t that, it’s the result of years of poor sleep and an inability to find medication that truly helps. I like to think my brain is the root of it all—the depression, the isolation, the shakes. It’s easier to blame the part of me that feels beyond my control.

I know I’m not a great musician, nor do I think I ever will be. But music is my soul. It’s my lifeline. Without it, I might as well be dead.

Even so, I’m not afraid of dying. I’ve loved people who were taken far younger than me. I don’t know where I stand on life after death, or whether there’s a God, or Gods… But, if they exist, and there is a place we can go after we die, I hope I’ll get to see those people again.

Despite all these fears of what I stand to lose… I’ve found a strange peace in it all. Maybe it’s hope. Maybe it’s foolishness. Whatever life gives me, I’ll keep doing my best. If nothing else, I’ll keep creating, keep putting myself out into the world, if only to remind myself, and maybe others, that I still exist, however fleeting that may be.

-As always, Sanguine

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whats R E A L

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[椎野乃々]

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silly little edits i made for myself

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[ESCAPE]

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雪

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I can't believe six years have gone by since you passed. It still hurts. I still loved you more than anyone else. I never got to tell you how I truly felt, I know you knew. You were always so kind. I won't ever love anyone again. Not the way I loved you. I don't want to. It wouldn't feel right. I listen to this song every damn year on this day. I'm alive for you. That's all I have left. Knowing you'd want me to keep going as long as I can. It's so hard. But I will keep going. Nobody can fill the gap. No one. If I could have traded places with you that day I would have. I would have done it for you. You had so much more potential than me. Your life was beautiful. You were everything I wished to be. Irina, I will always remember you. I will always love you. This was your favorite song. Every year on this day I promise I'll always remember you when I listen to it. I promise I'll go visit your grave and leave your favorite flower on it. I will never forget you. You will always live on as long as I breathe, and when my last day comes, when I die, I hope I can see you again. -Nikki.

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Purgatory

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I would drown happily.

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ADV HALLWAY 11