loneliness is bliss

even if Sartre had a vagina, I guess he'd never understand why my mother wanted me to exist

[obscure-moon]

I'm terribly lonely, but that's okay. I'm finally coming to terms that although I deserve love, I don't deserve to deal with people. Mankind is a waste.

No one cares about my opinions, my emotions, or even what I have to say. There's no point in being aggressively or peacefully assertive if you're always being misunderstood by who you are. I'm absolutely tired. I don't wanna fight or argue or continue to pretend that to co-exist with people around me is beneficial. I want to run after and conquer my own peace of mind.

There's nothing wrong with turning off my ears, numbing myself to society, and just flow downstream. It may be egotistical and a clear sign of a misanthropic mindset, but I feel relieved that no one really cares about me.

I'm now approaching yet another important crossroads in my experience as a person, but accepting my chronic loneliness is really an achievement I'm proud of.

[obscure-moon]

Title: "A Thousand Fading Pieces"

Inspired by Sonic Youth's song "Tunic (Song for Karen)", written by Kim Gordon.

[obscure-moon]

my inner degenerate teenager looking at the things I publish on ao3

[obscure-moon]

When I come back you'll still be here.

Dammit, Will. Crying and feeling miserable at 3AM here. I don't know how you can write things that literally break me in even more little pieces.

He's never coming back. I gave that man my heart , disarmed and with complete honesty. I knew he had a boyfriend and that he would say no (I know, that's fumb, stupid, and desperate), but I never expected that look of grimace. That look is branded in my existence.

I gave him my heart, and now part of me is missing. I barely dare to utter his name.

If you ever read this, man, you're a great songwriter. You have a rare talent with words and music. I have no doubts about that.

Thank you.

[obscure-moon]

Alone, getting wasted on meds and alcohol in my bedroom, wishing I could be interesting or socially attractive enough to be invited to a party or something. I don't like what the mainstream likes, I don't fit in with the mainstream style, and I'm not invited to the cool people's group.

The indie rock plays, and I wish it could guide my consciousness and unconsciousness to a better place, where I don't have to exist while feeling dreadful.

Everything leads me to believe that I'm supposed to be alone, like an obligation, or to keep the balance of things. "Some have to cry so that others can smile."

[thememedaddy]

[obscure-moon]

The Sun Still Rises

Yes, as the title says. The sun still rises. We remain lonely, trying to find something to feel the gap that keeps us from having friends and healthy relationships. We wake up, read the news, drink some coffee, brush our teeth, go to work, daydream about things we left behind and the desires of our subconscious, and then go home like shadows in front of an ordinary sunset.

Life happens, but we're on the background. Nobody listen to what we have to say, nobody writes about how we feel. We live the secret lives of the unseen characters. Yet, we yearn for human contact, a deep conversation, laughs and anecdotes while drinking some beer at the bar, some friends to share hectic moments while playing video games... We go outside and touch the grass, but sometimes we wish we could lay on the grass with a friend while watching the clouds.

We walk through foggy streets at night, some of our thoughts escaping, dreams appearing and disappearing like will-o'-the-wisps, disconnected words turning into sighs. But the sun still rises.

We're still here. We've always been here, with this undying feeling of being outcasts nurtured by natural selection. We carry on with our loves and passions, searching for connection while the sane twists of our brain keep us from collapsing and being blown by the wind.

We raise our eyes: the sun still rises.

[obscure-moon]

I saw my future boyfriend on the Cornerstone

On the phone with one of his sisters

When I saw that he was on his own

I thought he might like to see me

It was close, and I could get even closer

After we kissed, he said:

"Baby, you can call me anything you want."

[thememedaddy]

[obscure-moon]

the white flame dancing on the graves of his enemies

[heartinggays]

[obscure-moon]

yes, I think about this specific thing 90% of the time I'm awake

[obscure-moon]

Life is happening, everywhere; even if you're crying or laughing. Uncontrollable, time escapes between our fingers, as we dance aimlessly while listening to songs of someone else's yesterday years and passions and desires.

Yes, life is happening – no second coming for us, my friend. We are the ever-changing chimaeras that trip upon the strings of fate; so far, I see no escape.

But smile, my friend, for there is life; to regret, to frown, to daydream, to think of wasted hours and unrequited love, to look up to the sky while the blue immensity wanes and sends us back to the night.

[obscure-moon]

I feel lonely, obscure, sitting with my back on the wall in a dark kitchen, while the city lights can be seen through the window.

I am waiting to be discovered. Like the roaches under my sofa. I am waiting for the guy who will come and take me by the hand. I hope to dance like a wallflower who flew aimlessly wherever the wind went.

Meanwhile, I know no one's coming. But I wish I wasn't so lonely. This is not the life I imagined for myself. Where are my friends? Where is my chosen family? Where is the man who will embrace me and shield me with his broad shoulders?

I see two solutions: either burn as a volcanic eruption and fade away or live like my heroes who also dealt with loneliness and hangers-on. I put my head down, between my knees. I hear the refrigerator's noise, and I wonder, where is paradise?

I get up and go to bed early. Hope the sheets of a calm and uneventful death catch me tonight. Kinda like winning the lottery, I guess.

[catsofyore]

I’m in ur sink, questioning ur decor choices. Photo from my collection, ca. 1960s.

[blondebrainpowered]

Eartha Kitt shows off her strength and athletism by doing yoga at the beach, 1960s.

[obscure-moon]

Picture it: Los Angeles, Summer 1966.

And suddenly you walk in someone's house party. The air of the canyon brings a refreshing tone to it. You don't know who invited you; there's some guys on the sofa discussing which one is better: Godard's Masculin, Féminin or Varda's Cléo de 5 à 7. The guy you met last week on Zuma Beach is smoking a reefer, and he smiles at you. And at your left, there's a 20th century vixen dancing to some garage rock. You're living the moment.

[obscure-moon]

plan to manipulate a certain situation for one week; gaslight elderly people and young kids; pretend to know nothing, see nothing and not existing; teach high-school physics and help my classmates so that they don't get fucked on next week's test; produce chlorine gas and make a recipe on how to produce a molotov coktail full of homemade napalm and diesel: ok, easy peasy

therapy a.k.a. mandatory mental evaluation: THIS IS NOT OK, GET ME OUT OF HERE, DAD COME PICK ME UP

[obscure-moon]

now I realize I'm becoming Daria's aunt Amy