Illusion of Control

[brainmushes]

Camila’s list of movies.

(worth putting a couple of hours in.)

Starting on August 31st. My 24th birthday. 

Equals (2015) - Drake Doremus 

The Witch (2016) - Robert Eggers

The Neon Demon

The Lobster 

[brainmushes]

You're going crawl, you're going to walk, you're going to trip, you'll pick up the pace, you'll tire, you'll pick up someone else to make your company to your destination, sometimes strangers will be the one to cling onto your arm and you'll let them, and roads will divide and lone you'll be again, and you'll drive down the pace to admire the beauty of your surroundings, and you'll walk some more, even thought the strong winds keep pushing you back, and you'll walk through the dry stillness of the desert, and your feet will hurt because you've walked a million miles and more, or so it feels, but there are another million more to go, but you'll walk them, and you'll walk them alone, but you'll walk them through.

[brainmushes]

Billions of us and some people out there still think their reactions, emotions or experiences are unique to them. How blissful it must be to be so blind to the commonness of existence, of it’s movement like a pendulum. 

 The writers humble truth, is that we’re like grains of sand. Some of us are made of colorful glass, but most of us were just part of the earth, ripped from our mother, pulled to the shore by merciless tides. We all repeatedly receive the crashing waves, with the docility of that which can’t but submit to the unrelenting waters that crashes and undoes at its will, bringing us back to the depths of the sea, to the comfort of what’s known, or pushing us out into the further into the beach, into the dryness and roughness of that which is still to be faced. And that is to exist, to be human.

[brainmushes]

Write about the person you’ve been trying to forget. As you write, take back the power they have over you.

After all this time, what is there to be felt? Yet  your memories do seem to be the anchors that hold me down into my reality, into my present. How is it that regardless of having forgotten the color of your eyes or the beauty marks on your cheeks, and even the sound of your voice and not having the slightest remembrance of how your skin felt when you held my hand, you’re still here inside of me, or at least some vague ghost of what my heart thought of you to be.

 I may not remember you very well, but I remember how I felt when you looked me directly in eyes, like everyday is going to better than the next and the feeling of being alone, together, in this world; God, did I looked forward to the rest of my life. In this universe, no one else mattered, because you were there and, for what I could tell, the sun followed you everywhere you went. Your laugh was the cool breeze in the swelling hot days of this island you came to and then abandoned, only to leave behind the still rotten corpses of all those living, breathing, palpitating emotions you inspired in my deepest self. So deep I couldn't even tell they were there when you were still next to me; what a fool I was.

 To see them, to feel them. How painful was it to then have to dig into my innards and from then on only to live a life with an open wound, suffocating in the foul smell of their decay. I say the memories of my emotions for you are anchors to the present because I’m dragging them day by day, being reminded of the stillness and emptiness of each minute, each hour, and they remind me what I've lost. They remind me of where I am and where I am to go.They remind me that you're not here and that I shall bury was has for so long smothered me and kept me grounded in this affliction. I shall not look for you in other people. The smell of decay shall not reach them because all I've felt, and all I feel for you will, right at this moment, be 6 feet underground, where it belong, here in this same island where you left them. But not in me. Not anymore. 

[brainmushes]

I’m on meds friends, and I feel great. Life feels a little bit more worth living. 

[brainmushes]

Friends talking about Grad School, and I don't think I’ll even be able to get my undergraduate.

Just kill me. 

[brainmushes]

I don’t think I’ll regret not helping the world, having babies and traveling to Greece when I’m dead. I mean, we die then what? Darkness. 

[brainmushes]

Oye, really into J. Cole lately.

Atra’, atra’- but what’s new?

[brainmushes]

I want love and attention and to feel beautiful.

I know I have a vibrant personality underneath all this dark matter. I've felt it. I’m full of love I want to give to the world. I don’t want to go like this. 

No te he dado por perdida. 

[brainmushes]

Listening to Sia and thinking about how I haven't had a good night sleep for about a week.

I vomited this afternoon. And shook and had to force myself to each of my 2 meals, one of them being some meager pack of soda crackers and the other one a plate of carbonara pasta. I thought that if it were a dish i really like, it would be easier. It wasn't, and I had to push myself to finish that plate under Cami’s watchful eye. Thinking about it gives me nausea and makes me shake.

Worst part? I’m hungry right now but the thought of eating makes me want to cry.

I’m tired of forcing myself through life. It shouldn't be this way. 

“And I will stay up through the night Let's be clear, won't close my eyes And I know that I can survive I'll walk through fire to save my life And I want it, I want my life so bad I'm doing everything I can Then another one bites the dust It's hard to lose a chosen one

You did not break me, no I'm still fighting for peace “ 

I’ll try taking a sleeping pill tonight.

[brainmushes]

How amazing is it that through all of our experiences it is always us. The nasty, the pathetic, the rude and the lovely and the sweet, it never stops being us. Wouldn't it be perfect if we could deny the ugly parts of ourselves, the ones that embarrass us and hurt our loved ones. What an ugly thing it is to realize that whats inside us is, well, it.

It that composes us and all we can call ourselves.

Maybe instead of fighting your demons, you ought to make peace with them. Apologize and acknowledge what they gave you, like saying goodbye to a lover, a lover that hurt you but a lover nonetheless. They're just like you, they want attention and to feel important, as they once were. Wasn't there a time when your insecurities and obsessions had the best of you? Who would have doubted them? Who would have denied their ruling place in your being? You wouldn't have, for sure.

Without your pains, without their shrill voices in your ear you wouldn't have reach the top of those mountains, if not under their vigilant eye you wouldn't have gone the distances that you did. My theory is that we were born weak. Talented, brilliant and magnificent in our own way, but weak to the weight of the world. To society as it is, we're no more than the tiles that pave the way for the powerful and well adapted, for the ruthless are the only ones to succeed. You want to be like them? rid yourself of that heart of yours weighing you down.

What a pain, why not just live? We were born the way we were to crawl our way up, bleeding nails and knees bruised; no other way.

But hey, you can feel all the things they can't. You can see more colors and feel more textures and smell all those aromas that they cant even fathom. You can taste honey like kindness and smell the truth like wet grass; if they knew, they would be the ones jealous. And, aren't your dreams big and spine-chilling, just so utterly terrifying that they reduce you to a sobbing mess those times you let darkness catch you awake late at night.

As if dreams were meant to be any other way. If they dont scare you maybe they're not even worth pursuing, you may as well stay just were you are, but comfort never took anyone very far, did it?

[brainmushes]

Llegue a Corea después de un largo viaje y me ha tocado quedarme en un lugar que por aquí se les llama Goshitel. Unos diminutos cuartos para ser alquilados por unos cuantos días o semanas, aunque algunos estudiantes deciden extender su estadía a lo largo de un semestre de clases. Dios sabe que después de decidir vivir en un país a miles de kilómetros de la personas que amas, ya ningún sacrificio parece grande. Pero no lo tomen mal, estos cuartos no son de los peores lugares donde las circunstancias me han varado. Están bien, solamente no son un hogar.

Creo que por eso me da algo de pena y nostalgia ver en ellos esos pequeños detalles que te dejan saber que alguien vivió allí, que ese alguien quiso hacer de un hogar estas cuatros paredes. Porque ni pegatinas y velas, flores y fotos te darán de vuelta lo que decidiste dejar atrás. 

[brainmushes]

Como es de costumbre, siento mucho, pero te aseguro que no estoy triste, la verdad no creo que lo esté. Es más como un vacío dentro. He invertido incontables horas trazando planes y considerando cada posibilidad e imposibilidad para mi vida futura, para llegar a ser el tipo de persona que haría orgullosa a mi familia e haría cambiar de opinión a esas personas que no vieron ningún potencial en mi(por mas penoso que sea admitir); yo que perseguí a mis sueños con fervor a pesar de las carencias y demonios cuyas voces crecen un poco más cada noche, que me pesan en el alma y me entorpecen el paso, ya hoy no quiero nada. Estoy exhausta de arrastrarme por la vida siendo mediocre y malhumorada.

No hay tantas instancias de enojo e ira, como las hay de lágrimas: de alguna manera u otra el más insignificante de sucesos tiene el poder de hacerme romper en llanto y dejar un eco que resuena por días, me hacen llorar vagas memorias de eventos o historias que en realidad cuyos detalles ya he olvidado. Pero tal vez solo sea mi maldita sensibilidad. Tal vez nada ha cambiado y solo sean mis sentimientos manifestándose de diferentes maneras. Ley de Lomonósov-Lavoisier, o no?

[brainmushes]

Suspecting I might be borderline.

It would explain the ups and downs, the constant anger and irritability, my problems with people- the disappointment and distrust I harbor for everyone, the dysphoria, the self-harm and suicidal thoughts....

or it might just be some mix of depression, anxiety and anger issues. 

I don't know. It would be nice to talk to someone about this that could help me understand. 

[brainmushes]

Hopes for the New Year 2015

That it will be better than 2014.

That's it. 

[brainmushes]

Few things exasperates me more than lack of initiative.

Can you try? Can you at least pretend that you're trying? Like, seriously, not even that?

You're too comfortable and I'm  tired of constantly being that surface in which you lean.

you're. weighing. me. down. 

[brainmushes]

I would probably get much more done if I didn't spend 90% of my time fantasizing i'm not here.