January 1st, 2019
Officially retiring this platform.
Find me on Instagram @apostatte and @bethrosetattoo
Thank you for years of therapy.
DEAR READER
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
trying on a metaphor
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

titsay

@theartofmadeline
No title available
Show & Tell
Three Goblin Art

JBB: An Artblog!
cherry valley forever
hello vonnie
Stranger Things
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Cosimo Galluzzi
we're not kids anymore.
h
RMH
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
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@apostatte
January 1st, 2019
Officially retiring this platform.
Find me on Instagram @apostatte and @bethrosetattoo
Thank you for years of therapy.
June 16th, 2018 | 5.12pm
House arrest day 6, 29 days left to disappear.
The infliction of solitude given by the flu has opened up, if not forced, me into self reflection of things I probably already knew but didn’t give enough thought to articulate and make some judgement calls.
I’m trying to figure out if I’m an optimist or a pushover, or if in fact the two are just inherently linked. My Mum always praised me on being the one to bridge the gap, because nothing negative feels worth holding on to in place of something better, and that’s just it. Whether I want to or not, I can’t hold it. In place or rage or hurt, I can’t seem to hold on for more than an hour before it just fades away. And it feels that way, like a physical thing seeping away from my skin and leaving my eyes unclouded in the wake of whatever I did blind.
Forgiveness to me does not come as easy to others, so the line is a thin one to walk. I know it opens the door for people to walk all over me; the ones who didn’t deserve the second chance and potentially see an undeserved ego boost from a naive girl who doesn’t know better. But in that my philosophy remains the same.
Honesty, honestly.
I lived a long time tactfully trying to figure out the best words to say to keep me ahead and all I can say is the moments you fall behind feel even further when you know you did it deliberately. I would rather fall for real reasons. I can’t live my life without risk, and with that comes pain, and that’s okay. I would rather hurt knowing that I did it for myself and I did my best than live a life always wondering why I didn’t at least try. Trying is the very least I can do. Putting yourself out there is terrifying and the pain is devastating, but, my God, there are no feelings like these.
Maybe the answer to who deserves second chances isn’t in those two take what they are given, but to those who come looking. Off the top of my head I can think of at least three people who could read this and would think it’s about them but it’s not and it is. If you come to me with compassion I will always exchange openness because in my naivety I do believe in the goodness and change and honesty of people and if I can’t hold on to ghosts then all that’s left is nothing, so what’s the risk? I’m holding on to nothing.
Talk to me, talk to me, talk to me. Please.
June 15th, 2018 | 5.03pm
It’s been a long time, and longer in practise. My writing process is to write to process, and it helps (a lot). But the last six months have been full of movement happening so slowly that my eyes couldn’t pick up on and figure out what I was looking at.
I think there’s a lot of growth in that. When life happens suddenly it’s easy to figure out what pushed you into change, but the cogs have been turning silently and I’ve been adjusting myself with them in adaptation to a fully formed reality that my eyes still haven’t focused on. I think we must be closing in because I’m starting to feel it vibrate in my bones and all my instincts are beginning to turn into fight or flight.
I leave in 30 days, and I won’t come back for 26 more. I don’t know what I’m coming back to, and at this stage it’s hard to see what I’ll be leaving behind, but I know I need to go now.
I’m fighting for the ability to fly.
In disappearing people always worry that I’m not okay, but I can disappear because I am. I’m doing myself small kindnesses. I bought new bedsheets because it’s finally warm enough to sleep with bare legs and I love the way they feel, and my room is filled with smoke from cinnamon candles and incense that I know aren’t good for me but I love the movement in the light and I wish I could still smell them but somehow it doesn’t really matter because this feels like my place, and it might be littered in energy drink cans and clothes and takeout boxes but it doesn’t matter because I’m alone here.
I’ve turned off my phone, again. The world keeps sucking me in and I forgot how much better I am on my own. Not forever, but for right now.
April 1st, 2017 | 4.19pm
The Museum of Broken relationships on Hollywood Boulevard is one of the most interesting places I’ve ever seen; simultaneously depressing and inspirational. The stories are sad, sick and twisted but also a reminder of how totally normal it is for our lives, and ourselves, to fall apart from time to time.
Things seldom go the way you think, and you never know what’s coming next. When you’re younger you’re told that life gets better after high school, but actually the whole world is just one big high school, we just get better at figuring out how to deal with it. I’ve come to learn that in any situation where human beings are stuck together, by choice or otherwise, there will be explosions. We are all the centre of our own universe, every one with thoughts and feelings that confuse us and scare us and keep us up at night.
As I get older I’m gravitating more towards the idea that I’m not a relationship person at all. I like people but I like myself better, and I don’t believe that love is forever. How can I possibly say think that to be true when I’ve claimed love so many times before only to take it back later? That’s no love, it’s a fickle child playing with her favourite toy until she gets bored, throws a tantrum and looks for a new one with shiny new buttons she’s never tried.
At the end of the day romantic relationships are always going to be messy when you’re tying yourself so closely to another complex universe such as your own, and attempting to force two unique entities to work together in complete synchronisation is a mountain rarely worth climbing, and even those who make it to the top often seem to find it crumbling down beneath their feet. Exhausting. How are we supposed to avoid hurting other people when our own fragile egos can barely protect themselves?
I think genuine human connections are one of the most magical things in the world and I do believe in soulmates (of my own definition), but if it’s meant to be it will, until it won’t. I don’t want to tie myself to another person only to find half of myself torn away when it breaks. I believe in peacefully co-existing, each one alone but together when they want to be, and undefined, unattached. Free to drift apart and together through time and space or drift so far apart we stop existing at all, but nothing lost because we put nothing there to begin with.
March 7th, 2018 | 10.56pm
I have never been so right, and so wrong. Lord allow me the time to figure out which before I lose it all.
4.50am
I’m working tomorrow (today) which means sleeping alone tonight, minus the sleeping and leaving the alone. My alarm goes off in two hours.
It’s funny how tastes change and you can grow accustomed to something without noticing and suddenly what I used to hate seems hard to live without. Right now all I need is two hands round my waist and lips on my neck.
Good morning, the universe says hello.
Full of spaghetti and ready for death.
I’d buy nudes from you. I’ve been crushing on you since forever
I work on more of an exclusive membership system; if you can get me naked, you’re welcome to take as many photos as you’d like.
March 2nd, 2018 | 5.19pm
Day three in snow prison. Buses resumed irregular service today but my customer tomorrow can’t travel so that brings the total up to four. Day two in these pants. I put on makeup to feel awake but I’m going stir crazy. I’m a little worried about money this month so I’m going to start posting old clothes on Depop tomorrow.
I’ve spent so many hours watching Parks and Rec this week (started from the beginning, now I’m on season five) that I’ve had to start rewatching Breaking Bad just to switch it up. First priority right now is scouting a new vegan takeaway since my brother ate my food and I’ve ordered mixed vegetable tofu from the same Chinese three times already this week.
February 28th, 2018 | 11.44pm
The snow hasn’t stopped. Scotland is on red alert, but the deserted city and surrounding silence is impossibly peaceful. Unfortunately I could only stay out in it for half an hour before the snow got too heavy and I couldn’t see.
Now our front door is frozen shut and I’m trapped in my house.
I forget how totally awesome and okay it is to wear weird cool stuff for no reason just to feel weird and cool. Maybe holographic skull sunglasses are perfect late night zoo attire.
February 25th, 2018 | 3.41pm
Seeing things beautifully for the first time in a long time. I think the sun helps - I think listening to the right music helps even more. I’ve spent sleepless nights anxious about things that I’m not even afraid of, but I am painfully aware of. A month long sensory overload.
I forgot how young I am. I’ve spent twenty two years doing that. How can I be so afraid that I might have fucked up a life I’ve barely made for myself yet? Why do I care? I have so many mistakes still to make. I’m nowhere near the person I want to be, and so far from the one I was. Navigating this middle ground will come with stumbles and falls but if I let each one keep me down then I’ll be stuck there forever.
This place I’m in now is not where I want to stay, so I won’t.
Hello, and sorry to keep you waiting.
I think I’ve gotten back up again.
Would you sell nudes?
Nobody on the internet understands my sense of humour.
For someone who presents so much misery you do seem to have an answer for everything.
Life is too short, and too shit, to fuck around.
You got your hand tattooed? What about if you needed a different job and anti-social society?
What if I go outside, trip on a branch, cut my hand on broken glass, contract septicaemia and die a slow and painful death? I can’t stop going outside. We’re all living to die. I make choices to make me happy today because today is all I’ve got. You can’t live your life for the what ifs.
What’d you do if you couldn’t tattoo anymore?
Anything with animals.
Any sleeve progress pics?
No photos, but it is now entirely lined, hand included. Progress is currently slow and difficult since my artist is on the road and we are now trying to work around two tattooer schedules.