Fucked Up Eva

Hi, I'm Eva, nice to meet you.

[evaandallthatjazz]

Act One

My name is Eva. My life has led me to a decision that is forbidden to be spoken out loud, but I’m sure you know what I mean. It has led me to an end.

I fought for ten years, trying to fit in, to adapt, to change myself to suit the small world around me. But there is no escaping yourself. At certain moments in my life, I thought I had made it — that I could finally, like others, have friends, be loved, be understood, be myself, have control over my own life and stop being afraid. But I didn’t make it.

And even though this decision was made long ago, I am not allowed to carry it out. My mother — the only person I thought about in the moments closest to that step. She has lived a miserable, poor life, full of suffering, hardship, and pain. Now she is seriously ill as well, and I simply cannot allow myself to make her life even worse.

I need to exist.

You know, my friend, there are people around me. There is someone I love. And yet I am very lonely. I have been lonely for a long time. There is not a single person with whom I can share a walk through the forest, music, silence, or an honest conversation.

A long time ago, in trying to find my place, I lost myself. I am always playing a role: a good friend, a good daughter, a good girlfriend. I am no longer a person — I am an always available, convenient function for others. My desires and my opinions are constantly disregarded. I do not own my life, my time; I don’t even have a corner that is truly mine.

I fought for ten years — with myself and with everyone else — but I no longer have the resources to keep fighting. I need to exist, once again not for myself. But since it turned out this way, I decided to try being honest, at least in front of strangers: to speak, to share, to exist not only inside myself.

I would like to be seen at least once. Maybe someone understands what I am talking about.

That’s why I’m writing this here. And why I’ll keep writing. You know, my friend, I play guitar. I write songs and poems.

Maybe I have something to share.

Peace to you.

[evaandallthatjazz]

At least I still listen to music. You know, a song from this album was in one of the Astral parts, and even a lot of my friends find it scary, just like they find Tiny Tim scary though, but I absolutely love it; there’s something indescribable about it. I’ve been listening to it for about eight years, if not more, and I’ve only recently discovered the whole album.

I don’t know much about him, but I heard he even has a heavy metal album. He’s such a multi‑faceted musician, that’s for sure. So yeah, may God bless Tiny Tim.

[evaandallthatjazz]

I’m just so fucking tired. Basically every aspect of my life is falling apart, and I’m trying so hard to hold it all together. I feel like I’m going crazy, and in order to keep going somehow, I started relying on some shit. Long story short, a couple of days ago I realized I was sliding into an addiction. I guess that’s how people become drug addicts… But I kicked it out of my life as best as I could.

[evaandallthatjazz]

I wonder if anyone still listens to full albums these days, but "Sing Me a Song of Songmy" really deserves it. It’s a genuine masterpiece. No need for words, just press play and immerse yourself.

[evaandallthatjazz]

On the bright side, I’ve been getting into funk disco lately, and I’d love to share a couple of songs here☀️

[evaandallthatjazz]

For the past month, I’ve been drowning in fear, shame, and disappointment.

I applied for an admin job at a guitar school, but the bosses talked me into teaching guitar instead. I was super hesitant, but I went for it, figuring it’d be a chance to level up my own skills. They keep saying I’m awesome and totally capable, but deep down, I know I’m bombing it. I mess up lessons all the time, struggle to explain stuff simply to the kids, and it leaves me feeling mortified.

Worse, ever since I started, something inside me just… broke. I can’t write lyrics anymore. Can’t compose. Can’t make music at all. I’m terrified, it’s one massive letdown.

[evaandallthatjazz]

I’ve never been able to be part of a group of more than two. When there are just two of us, there’s a connection, a feeling that we’re indispensable to each other, a shared secret, complete trust, our little world, like hiding in a pillow fort at night, feeling: “The whole world is wrong, and it’s just us against it.” But as soon as a third person joins, the magic disappears.

I’ve had many of these stories, each one ending, and today yet another came to its conclusion. We can keep talking, working, or studying together, but once there’s someone else, I turn into the entertainer for the group and everything becomes superficial, and the depth, the connection, is gone.

I know a lot of this comes from my own insecurities. I need to be important to someone, to be their whole world, to share the most intimate things, to be “the one they can be completely themselves with.” And this isn’t about romance or intimacy. It’s about a deep emotional connection, something bigger than just company.

I’m long past being a teenager, and maybe it’s silly, but I’m still trying to find my Buddy Holly in someone, and my own “I don’t care what they say about us anyway.”

Maybe it’s time to break this cycle, but I don’t want to lose this magic forever.

[evaandallthatjazz]

For the first time in a long while, I finally had the energy to actually go outside — really go out.

Today, I went to a rehearsal with my new band, met up with a friend who had been trying to get me out of the house for about four months, and later met another friend at a bar.

I’m probably still a bit drunk, not really feeling any joy, but I do feel a sense of satisfaction with everything I managed to do today.

[evaandallthatjazz]

This week has been strange. My father went on another drinking binge and called me dozens of times every day. He came to our place, and I hid in the bathroom, pretending I was taking a shower. He came again the next day and rang the doorbell for about half an hour. My sister and I didn’t open the door, pretending no one was home.

It’s become so normal for me a long time ago, but I think I should talk about it with someone, say it out loud and think it through, so I don’t forget that it’s not how things are supposed to be, that people shouldn’t live in constant fear and without any sense of safety.

My mom was admitted to the hospital, so now everything is on me again, and I don’t know what’s going to happen next. I have to keep a straight face, be strong for everyone, but I’m not coping, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to.

[evaandallthatjazz]

I wrote this after a failed attempt to persuade her to call the doctors. It turned out my mother was seriously ill, and I felt completely helpless. I just wanted to say what I couldn’t allow myself to say in real life.

[evaandallthatjazz]

It sounds like such a cliché, but I rarely get to truly feel joy, because of the diagnoses I’ve been given and something deeper I still can’t quite grasp. Life is pretty sad. Even music, as much as I love it, rarely brings me joy anymore, though more than anything else still does.

But today, a synth somehow found its way into my hands, and I felt this pure, childlike delight. I don’t really play keyboards, but I’ve been wanting to try for ages. I’ve been thinking of getting a MIDI keyboard, and now I’ve somehow become the keeper of this one. I’ve started fumbling my way through “Leap Your Bar”, and it’s hard to put the feelings into words.

My relationship with the guitar is deeply abusive, I demand too much from myself, I fight with it for hours every day. But the keyboard feels like Neverland: there’s no “I have to” here yet. I can just try, make mistakes, and even be happy when I've managed to find a melody.

For a moment, it cleared the fog I usually exist in.

[evaandallthatjazz]

I had another session with my therapist and I feel like I've been gutted.

Every time.

I’ll be picking up my guts until next Saturday.

[evaandallthatjazz]

It feels like just yesterday it was fall, an now I’ve woken up in the middle of winter

[evaandallthatjazz]

I’ve been writing for quite a while, mostly song lyrics.I wanted to share one of them.

Not long ago, I came across a video about an elderly ballerina. I don’t remember exactly what captivated me to her story, maybe because I once dreamed of being a ballerina myself and even spent seven years dancing. To me it’s a wistful feeling for something that never was and never will be. 

Someday I’d love to write music that truly captures what I put into my words, but that’s always the hardest part for me.

If this resonates, I’d be grateful for your feedback.

[evaandallthatjazz]

My father recently asked me for a photo of myself in a dress. After that, he said he has a fetish for girls in dresses.

He has said things like this to me more than once. And every time, it’s as if the memory is erased almost immediately. I know I’ve heard something like this before. I remember the feeling: shock, disgust, nausea, fear, anger, helplessness, but I can’t recall his exact words.

It’s as if my mind refuses to accept them, as if it can’t believe something like this could really be happening.

But here we are.

[evaandallthatjazz]

Here are a couple of songs I’m listening to right now thanks☀️