Being a creative person is fun and all until you find yourself having to make this dumb grandiose idea you had a reality… why didn’t I just stay in my comfort zone, everyone is expecting something great now meanwhile I have NO idea how I’m going to pull this expo off. No skills no hope left just faking it and praying I’ll make it work… So anyways I’ve felt insane lately how about you 🫡
Growing older is getting scary. Everything is so different now. I don’t know what to do with these memories. Where to put them down. No one here to see me maybe only cause I never let someone again. Funny how life turns into so many Before X and After X’s. I say funny because I don’t know what else to do but laugh. A twisted joke on my trail. Tired of running and yet already dreaming of the next place that won’t feel like home either. Sometimes I think I miss being a dumb teenage boy pretending to like some girl just to like a girl & that was the full extent of my problems, but that’s just another lie considering everything. I was never a good child, the only difference is now there’s no one held responsible but me. I was a lonely child & maybe men never learn. Tell me why I still feel homeless even with a roof above my head. Tell me anything at all
i wanna make you fall in love as hard as my poor parents teenage daughter / she'll be the best you ever had if you let her
Sylvia Plath from a letter to Ann Davdiow-Goodman written 1951; Letters of Sylvia Plath, Volume I: 1940-1956 / Jeanette Winterson excerpt from Lighthousekeeping / Rosamund Hodge excerpt from Cruel Beauty / unknown / image: Angelica Alzona Intimacy (2012) words: The National Daughter of the Soho Riots (2005) / Tathève Simonyan A Prayer / @/FAUNTHEKiD (pinterest) / Victoria Chang Foghorn; Six poems / image: unknown words: Richard Siken excerpt from Crush / Hala Alyan I'm Not Speaking First
i. Sylvia Plath, letter to Ann Davdiow-Goodman
[ "I know I'll always think of you with something like hurt and nostalgia - and a great deal of love." ]
ii. Jeanette Winterson, Lighthousekeeping
[ "This is not a love story, but love is in it. That is, love is just outside it, looking for a way to break in." ]
iii. Rosamund Hodge, Cruel Beauty
[ "You fought and fought to keep all the cruelty locked up in your head, and for what? None of them ever loved you, because none of them ever knew you." ]
iv. unknown
[ "and you've cried once more because recognition feels like forgiveness, which is a burning furnace that can't stand on its own. love is a feast but you've learned to abstain. there is a sickness that follows the shame of giving with love only to be met with slaughter." ]
v. Angelica Alzona, Intimacy / The National, Daughter of the Soho Riots
[ Surrealist painting of a man and a woman kissing as their faces blend together. Red outlines of hands reach up around them. "BREAK MY ARMS / AROUND THE ONE I LOVE" ]
vi. Tatheve Simonyan, A Prayer
[ "Rage, that is love - rotten! / Rage, that is desire - rotten! / Rage! - like a prayer, unanswered, ricocheting from your ceiling and landing right onto your eyes, never quite reaching where it was meant to." ]
vii. FAUNTHEKiD
[ "being in close proximity to you / is being led to the slaughter / if that the lamb is aware is alive is accepting / if that the slaughter is love love love" ]
viii. Victoria Chang, Foghorn
[ "The great mystery / is whether I love you or / I just love mourning. / The absence of a laugh just / gone, and the air that fills it." ]
ix. unknown/Richard Siken, Crush
[ Silhouette of a boy looking downwards. Red streaks from the background spread outwards from the middle. "I'll be your / slaughterhouse, / your killing floor, / your morgue / and final resting" ]
x. Hala Alyan, I'm Not Speaking First
[ "Nothing's Freudian anymore. A cigar's a cigar. I want to love something / I want to love something without having to apologize for it. Please don't tell." ]
Cigarette in the sun, iced coffee in orange mugs. Sweat on a clean shaven face and cheesy 70s songs. Black clothes hot to the touch. I have scraped the paint off the floor, washed those old brushes clean. I remember you. Wonder if you know how this feels. If you’d pick up the phone with a laugh. Summers beginning and I feel born anew every day, built up and broken down and built up again. Tobacco stains on fingernails, birds chirping somewhere in the distance out there. Futile attempts at futile connections. To have failed and perhaps to try again. Would I get another chance?
Vielleicht rufe ich an, damit du sagst, irgendwann irgendwann, irgendwann, fangen wir hier zum letzten Mal von Vorne an.
Open doors letting the wind in. The dust particles in the air. I don’t remember nearly as much as I would like. Dat ik alles draag en alles kan. Een vriend die zegt wat je wilt horen. Onze ongesproken taal.
dededos
baratheonpilled
blakekathryn
kianamaiart
kaledo-art
theartofmadeline
