i want peace,
not the measured one that life offers me from time to time like a band-aid that will be ripped off before I heal
I want it like a graft,
patching up the exposed areas that i scraped off of my soul to feel lighter..
to move on.
I’m trying to write an independent story from all the tragedies of the women around me
digging my own plot with my nails on the exact same rocks that were used
to stone them..
carrying the guilt of that, the way they carried the shame of existence. The only difference is i refuse to ask for forgiveness.
sometimes it feels like all my feelings are over felt, if not by me then someone else.
I've seen it over and over again I, the eye of an outsider
or that of the storm
stood still when it all spiraled around me, I held on to the rubble,
and cemented myself back together
more often than not, I did it with rage so whenever i got spilled, like blood under an old rug,
with all my particles separated into different identities, unseen, uncared for while i floated in an astral projection status
Ironically, the core was always one
rage, rage again…
aging rage!
It's all that i know, it's all the shades.
I exist, Like an ugly bruise
Violet fading to blue, violent, contrasting the softness that i long for.
I can't seem to explain my existence to anyone, not even myself.
a bruise, self inflicted or not, I can’t stop examining it, obsessively
dissecting pieces of my soul, trying to find a marker for the malicious cells that overgrown my own.
In the daylight I get fascinated by the way it changes colors, and when sleep sits heavy on my eyelids i press on it harder,
curious to where will i draw my threshold line.. do i know how to exist without all this pain?
am i just a phantom of coping mechanisms, and survival instincts,
Shades of hysteria, along with estrogen ?
this world constantly seems bigger than me, that’s my only comfort.
•••
• Quotes: Taylor Swift/ Charles Bukowski/ Henry Miller/ anne sexton/ Louis Tomlinson/ Anaïs Nin/ Rainer Maria Rilke.
•original context: Sinligh
•Art reference:
1. painting by marta astrain. 2. Omen, 1886, by Emile Corsi 3. Oil paintings by Jen Mazza 4. Art by Liu Yuanshou 5. Art (detail) by Arthur Gain
•••
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when kafka said ‘you wouldn’t believe the kind of person I could become if you wanted it’ and when brontë said ‘if you ever looked at me with what I know is in you, I would be your slave’ and when Sartre said ‘if I’ve got to suffer it may as well be at your hands’
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wuthering heights ~ emily bronte / puppet history ~ shane madej
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if you love me, henry, you don’t love me in a way i understand.
wishbone - richard siken, never let me down again - depeche mode, you are jeff - richard siken, hum hallelujah- fall out boy, plainwater: essays and poetry - anne carson, henry & vito via @miasmat, ghismonda with the heart of guiscardo (detail, 1650) - bernardino mei, two children in a motel bed - ethel cain , you are jeff - richard siken, never let me down again - depeche mode, wishbone - richard siken, & wishbone - richard siken.
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In the name of healing I bite chunks of myself daily, spit them out in my hand with the intention to wash it away later
Eventually, i end up over analyzing them, like everything else in my life
grafts of all the causes I’m still here, glued together by my mother’s fears
be the Alpha female, she said. “feed on your most beloved, a cup of the moon’s blood every night before bed for you to run alone forever, run wild, never slip”
I Shower myself with self-loathing, lick my own wounds close Keep me sane, keep me safe
loneliness to me is just another insecurity that is dangling from my prefrontal cortex, dangling right in front of my eyes… for me to see the world through it.
I spend hours looking at the bloody chunks in my hand, thinking where did i go wrong ? how much can I hold on to this heartache ?
I've been running around it all my life, running around red lines, red lines circle me, i run in circles around myself I’m all that I’ve ever knew, yet, I only know myself in fading
A distant memory, a deja vu…
All I really know, is that the only stable in my life is the fact that I exist, and that it’s a temporary state.
jamais vu.
will the lines fade if i eat what i bit off of myself again ? if i chew and chew and chew… If i teach myself to stomach it will i be whole again?
is holding on to those pieces enough to satisfy my desire to be held ?
Or does it make me a feral rogue ?
Schizophrenic delusions ticking in my head…
Sometimes I wonder if it’s my fault that I’m this alone…
then again I wasn’t the one feeding myself all the insecurities as a young child.
I wasn’t the one playing pretend.
It was never my fault, my mother thought faking happiness is the way to protect me, it was never my fault father wasn’t interested in the details, as long as I was his perfect girl…
Now, I can’t hold on to anything the way i hold on to the lunatic turmoil that makes me sway and laugh on my own personal misery.
Call it history.
Hide behind defensive humor, get my inner demons drunk on caffeine, mistake that high for happiness cause mama did too…
And wait for caffeine withdrawal to wake us up, both of us…
I’ve never been hangover, but I imagine this is how it’ll feel
The aura ? The migraine?
The urge to throw myself up to be reborn clean.
•••
•Quotes: Olivia Laing/Heather Havrilesky/ Olivia Laing/ Marya Hornbacher/Anaïs Nin/Camille Norton/ Alice Oseman/ eduardo C. Corral/anne carson/ Joanne Harris/ Hannah Green/Hannah Green/Lisel Mueller
•Original context: sinligh
•Art reference:
1. Sasha Hartslief, Late Night Shower, 2021. 2. Getting Up by Vincent Giarrano. 3.illustration by Owen Gent. 4. The Lovers on the Bridge, 1991. 5. "Beverly Edmier 1967' Keith Edmier, 1998
•song recommendation:
P.s: the whole album is a masterpiece ! Give it a try, thank me later.
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Always sympathizing with your mother is so hard it’s like
I remember I used to love you, but I can’t remember why I ever did , I’m sorry you’re so lonely, please stop talking to me I can’t handle it anymore, you were supposed to be the most stable thing in my life, yet you’re the complete opposite, I want to feel safe with you, I want to run away from you, I want you to change, it’s too late to fix anything, I’m not good enough for you, but I’m not good enough for myself, i hate you for what you are, I’m sorry your life turned out this way , you’re the victim, you make it all worse, you tell me your problems, but I wish you didn’t, I wish we didn’t live together, you need me more than I need you , your life is a mess and it makes my bones sick and nauseous,I’m sorry your life is awful too, I hate the sound of your voice, but I always come when you call, I’m sorry I can’t help you, for the love of god why couldn’t you help me
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Burning Your Boats The Collected Short Stories, Black Venus, Angela Carter / Anne of Green Gables, L.M. Montgomery / Unknown / Tell Me No Secrets, Joy Fielding / Stop the World and Get Off, Peggy Toney Horton / Grief, Barbera Crooker / Unknown / A Room of One’s Own, Virginia Woolf / Anne of Green Gables, L.M. Montgomery / William Stanley Merwin / Maurice, E. M. Forster / Dear Would be Wife, Gala Mukomolova / Unknown / Anne of Avonlea, L.M. Montgomery / Anvita Bhogadi / Peace Like a River, Leif Enger / Unknown / Unknown / The Witch of Blackbird Pond, Elizabeth George Speare / @honeytuesdy / October, Robert Frost / The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, T.S. Eliot / Georgia Grace / Alexander Smith / Unknown / Insta: sarahkjp
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