Juansen Dizon, i am the architect of my own destruction
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@dissociac
Juansen Dizon, i am the architect of my own destruction
20-fucking-25
I don't feel safe. It's been ages, and looking back on these posts is... something. Somehow I've managed to fuck things up even more than they already were before.
Can't believe I crawled my way out of a hole, only to land in another one, and another one, and now the biggest one yet.
How is it that I feel everything and nothing at all? And I yearn to feel something, something fucking real, something that isn't a fever dream that haunts me over and over again.
I guess this is our folly. Drinking from broken cisterns. Longing for a fix that will never satisfy.
It gets less romantic with every passing day, month, and year. It was never romantic to begin with. But at one point I could love my sadness, love my pain. I could sink in its darkness and comfort. Let it consume me.
Or I still did. I saw it in another and it was a descent into a rush. A sickening flood of a familiar old friend. Pour me a drink of despair and purposed suffering, and I'll flagellate myself. I remember it feeling so wrong, but maybe it also felt right. Maybe right means familiar.
I've picked up the pieces before but this time is different. Knowing evil in the most intimate of ways has marked me, forever. Somehow getting older just increases the capacity for suffering, it seems.
God, I've found you, and this wickedness is beyond what I can bear. I hope to have hope. I hope of the end.
Wong Kar-wai: In the Mood for Love (2000)
He remembers those vanished years. As though looking through a dusty window pane, the past is something he could see, but not touch. And everything he sees is blurred and indistinct.
IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE (2000) dir. Wong Kar-wai.
In the Mood for Love (2000) directed by: Wong Kar-wait
Henri Cartier-Bresson, Sleeping Couple on the Train, Romania, 1975
02/11/19 3:12am
Life gets better, life gets worse. All at the same time. I keep moving back and forth like a swinging pendulum, exerting a force just to stay in motion. Most of the time it feels like every action I take is futile, and like Newtonās third law of motion, my attempts to increase any efforts are met with increasing resistance. Maybe this is all in my head, and the barriers I perceive are just that āā a perception. Does that make it any lessĀ ārealā? If reality is only perception, and no one can prove otherwise, why does the lack of a physical representation make a mental barrier any less tangible? Even this, now, me trying to articulate this, is futile. Iāve tried what theyāve told me to try āā fake it till you make it, believe you are ever-deserving of theĀ āgoodā things in life, taking care of your physical health & etc. Why isnāt it okay to acknowledge that, things are always relative, so I will always struggle in some aspect, to some extent? It makes no logical sense that I should āā and I do āā feel guilty, as if this is a fate Iāve resigned myself to and Iāve given up on trying to ~ change my reality with my thoughts ~. Iām genuinely tired, yet it seems as if Iāve barely begun.
Can a person truly separate from what they were conditioned to think and believe as a child? All through childhood to adolescence and even now in adulthood, it feels impossible to shake the sense that I havenāt done enough or achieved what Iām *really* capable of. At some points I used to see that as a positive trait, like a competitive advantage that drives me forward, but it caught up to me. I am so young, yet I feel so old. My eyes should be bright with optimism, but Iāve lost any sense of direction. When I look around me, I feel disillusioned. Is this part of growing older?Ā
The world just feels so overwhelming. All of it. Itās so difficult to stay alive, to support yourself, let alone thrive. Iām sick of the booming self-help and motivational productivity spirituality life guru industry. Iām sick of the constant growth economics and neoliberal capitalist system that prioritises maximising shareholder returns and reaching that million, no, billion dollar valuation, for the sake of it. When did we start to act like we āā human beings, biological organisms with desires āā were simply here to form the human capital that drives the cogs of the machines and generateĀ āvalueā, whatever the f--- that means. We delineated borders and named new countries, set up legal entities called companies and passed trade laws. What was initially meant to serve us, improve our lives and build local communities, are now richer, bigger and more powerful than some of the smallest countries combined. So many of us are born into a system we had no hand in forming or influencing, and the power to make decisions is only becoming increasingly concentrated at the top.Ā
In the end, all of the disarray and shit going on in this point in time, over the course of any lifetime, is just a blip in the universe. There could be another 100 global financial crises and 12 more countries will land on the Moon. Maybe theyāll build a village on Mars and develop a cure for HIV.Ā The world will have good leaders and bad leaders, there will be more terrorists and more reformed criminals. My life is incredibly insignificant, it only matters to me, and how any of us choose to spend our days in orbit can be as _______ as we want it to be.Ā Life gets better and life gets worse.
19/05/19 2:52am
Well, fuck. I didnāt think Iād be brought back to what feels like the melodramatic brokenheartedness of my teenage years but here I am again. It feels downright wrong in my gut, like I should be past this by now; Iām better, more mature than the emotional fool in high school whoād cry over a boy who didnāt want her back. Thereās nothing quite like feeling awful and then beating yourself up for feeling awful on top of it.Ā
Why do I feel so ashamed? All this while Iāve prided myself on being somebody who is collected and in control, perhaps the visceral emotion was an attack on my self-esteem āā something that goes against the ego Iāve identified with. Even now as I type this, attempting to put the last few months into words, I struggle. I struggle to gather my inner turmoil and package in into something neat and delectable to read. The truth is Iāve been running āā running away from dealing with what happened, running in circles around the distractions Iāve built for myself.
I havenāt been able to sit down and grapple with the entirety of us. How quickly we soared to the top of the world... Only to fall from the sky, just as suddenly as we rose. Newtonās third law states that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Itās impossible to quantify the magnitude of what I feel and felt for you but you didnāt and wonāt believe me when I tried to tell you.
I fucking hate myself so much. I really do. I still struggle to put into words the myriad of things I feel and think everyday, and most of the time I try to put you in a box at the back of my brain and leave you behind, but I know I havenāt really. Not when there hasnāt been a day thatās passed that I haveāt thought of you. It makes me sick to my stomach.
How fucking stupid of me to believe the words that came out of your mouth. To allow myself to be put in this position. It disgusts me that I still wonder how youāre doing, that I still hope youāre thinking of me. I still hope thereās hope for us, that you havenāt found someone new.
And that makes me sick.
I donāt know what Iām supposed to do here. Iām convinced you could never truly love me, not after the way things unfolded... Even, even *if* we both wanted to, the historyās there, and I know you believe thereās no such thing as a fresh start. Yet I want so badly for us to be. Thereās nothing I want more. I want to believe that youāll...
I should know better than to listen to you. But Iām hurting, and I donāt know.
Photography by Xuebing Du
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Bella Hadid photographed by Mayan Toledano
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