#isolation diaries

[lauraizabela]

TEMPERATURE CHECK no.60

25/03/2021 8:37PM / Who would have thought? Almost a year has passed, and where am I? In silence, but lighter, brighter, more hopeful. Softly falling. My head is heavy with exhaustion and dreams — a brewing storm. No, a breakthrough, she says. Yes, I have a bee swimming in my soul again. Every piece of affection cuts again and the smallest thing reads like betrayal. This isn’t love but it is not not pleasure. My hands are weary, but I pray for lightness in my step; I long for love that bruises my heart only with kisses and sharp breaths. There is a new He on the scene, and the new He terrifies as much as the one before. Mother, I’m afraid I might be seducing another beast, but the space in my heart is finally open. My anxious, lovely Minotaur; He falls asleep to the sound of my absence, but I don’t cry. My heart just thuds, thuds, thuds in anticipation, and worries itself sick day after day, so on and so forth — through stuttering and laughter, I may have found myself a little home in this man’s soul. True? Well, may the morning star protect her lovers.

[13wyvern7]

Thanks to @sleepnoises for my new friends! They're fitting in well.

[ulrikk3]

Ever feel like you’re in training for something?

[mariamnamah]

Care Package #2: In which we become lakes, Karim Kattan —

What follows is certainly not a to-do list. It is merely a proposal: imagine yourself turning into a lake, in a bower, your southern banks a

[lauraizabela]

TEMPERATURE CHECK no.65

07/04/2021 6:02AM / I woke up in tears. I woke up thinking, everything is a reflection of a reflection of a reflection and found a mirror at the foot of my bed. I don’t know who I am, I am only repeating all that I once knew. Oh my sweet Lord, my sweet Love—how I wish I could hold his face and take away all fears, how I wish I could pour myself down his throat without saying a single word (without an ounce of hesitation). He says he can’t wait, but I can’t help but feel too dark, too wild, too uncertain and so shaken. I’ve never been so naked and close to being truly held. It’s electrifying, but it terrifies; it feels like a different type of heartache. Oh, but this life is so long and so heavy to bear and I am only at the starting line, no? My edges may still be sharp but I don’t want to cut anyone anymore. Dear Lord, I beg: deliver us from pain, deliver us from evil. Heaven never felt so close. I am afraid, but I’m on my way. 

[lauraizabela]

TEMPERATURE CHECK no.61

29/03/2021 11:33PM / A few days ago, unbeknownst to anyone, I said: The only thing that is real is the blinding fire in my eyes. It remains to be so. That is the only thing that never wavers. Today, I am completely disconnected from my new sparkling love yet again. I’ve done it before, but it’s different this time. I haven’t uttered a single word his way in days (I do not wish to), and I am tired and rid of desire, but I’ll return. I sense his importance, his influence over my life now — his name is Refinement and I shall grow into it/him ‘til I can grow no more, all while he stays sweetly by my blazing side until the day we die together comes and a sorrowful goodbye is due. I have a tendency to get drunk on this saccharine fantasy offered by the Other way too fast and blindly, but it isn’t my final wish. It never was, save for my hours of delusion. In truth, my pretty ones, I am a blade that severs fat from bone; the mistress and the magicienne of illusions; a loaded gun. I have neither shame nor fear, not anymore, which should and shouldn’t fill you with glee/fear. I have the most heavenly by my side. He is dearer to me than most, but everything pales in the face of this flame I call myself. Two nights ago, I dreamt of warped time, rebirth, mismatched bodies, my old one true Love. There was a boy-stuck-in-the-body-of-a-girl stuck in an elevator rambling about Shakespeare, a tarot reader whose fingers I guided with mine, an old photographer with stars in his eyes only for me. In the third dream, I was stung by a bee which was a blessing — no, a blessèd cure. When in doubt, Dearest one: write your words like you’re slicing off your flesh. Each word, a sacred movement.

[lauraizabela]

TEMPERATURE CHECK no.58

08/09/2020 10:09PM / When I am calm, I must write. When I am seething, I must write. And yet, lately, a little fear has been showing its face to me more and more; the little fear I cannot ignore no matter how much I try. I met it when I was a little girl and it seems incapable to let go of me, and/or I it. We are star-crossed lovers, really, and I know I must find a way to poison it in its sleep some day, some day soon. I do, I know this, and I’ve found a way to do it, yet I’m still afraid that it’s managed to fuse itself with my shadow at this point. How should one go about killing a part of self? Gently, I’d assume. Gently, then savagely and with no mercy. 

[lauraizabela]

TEMPERATURE CHECK no.59

09/09/2020 10:58PM / I wasn’t made for soft kisses and hollow pleasures. I am unlearning my new desire for easy love. I keep half-baked drafts in all of my pockets, trying to dream up a reality I could own. That is a fall. I am uneven and afraid. There is so much to reflect about and I recognise that I’ve been running away from it, as one does: consciously and without a care in the world. Frantic. Short attention span is a coping mechanism at this point. Have I become a rotten ignoramus? Perhaps a part of me has. I worry for my ego to eat me alive someday. It is hard to remove yourself from it, the self that craves and wants, the venomous self that I was blessed with. I want to rewrite, rewire, fall into a positive spiral, consume knowledge for the sake of knowledge, power for the sake of the other, art for the sake of connection. I have been born with a crown on my head as it is, why bother? The self will always hunger for more, nothing satiates her — why bother. I no longer have anything to prove. (Why bother?) In fact, I never did. I find myself wishing for freedom again. I am.