Beautifully Unhinged

Anonymous journal of a queer AuDHDer- art, photos, writing, and whatever my brain hyperfixates on. Welcome to chaos documented!

[thebrainypizza203]

Ph. Jan 20th 2020. 6.35 am.

No context for this one.

[thebrainypizza203]

Loss

Loss is a knot in my throat, hard, throbbing, painful. It grows and chokes me, expands through my chest, my arms, it keeps me grounded too.

I feel it in my head, filling it entirely, inside out, numbing my skin and pulsating inside my skull. But I'm not afraid, overwhelmed? Absolutely, it feels so big, like it's crushing me from the outside but mostly inside out. And yet the most unbearable part is that point, the knot, uncomfortable, impossible to ignore, I breathe and it's there, I try to swallow and it's there, unmoving, demanding attention, urging me to speak and yet silencing my words at the same time.

It's hard to talk when you are out of air.

At first glance, the knot presents as a black void, always changing, somewhat uncorporeal, like the obscurus from fantastic beasts and where to find them (now that I realize, also a very accurate comparison).

I feel curious about its dynamic essence, upon closer inspection, the form starts to mutate and turns red, orange, yellow, with hues that resemble a galaxy, not only the colour, but the lightness and the consistency.

How can something so beautiful and harmless can impersonate something so intimidating and paralyzing, or rather, how can something so intimidating take the form of one of the most breathtaking scenes in the universe, at least, in my mind.

Don't get me wrong, one can be overwhelmed by awe inspiring situations and scenery, but the paralyzing fear, the uncertainty that comes with loss is undescriptable. And yet, my loss is a galaxy, intangible, I can submerge in it, breathe it in, but still feels surreal. Maybe that's why I chose that form, we all know it's there, but it's something unexplored, distant and yet so present, so embedded into our lives, all encompassing.

Ph. AI generated omage based on the text.

PS. Written for a therapy session on 2022.

[expressions-of-nature]

by Anita Austvika

[thebrainypizza203]

Of love and loss

Moving on is such a strange concept. I've loved and been loved, and for every person, I thought, this is it, this is the one.

Have you ever wondered if there is someone out there that's perfect for you? A "soulmate"?

I've heard time and time again about Greeks, how we basically were two people in one, united as a whole. I read how the gods were jealous and separated us to ream on earth looking for our other half.

I did not think there were soulmates, that is, until I realized I had lost my chance with mine.

I saw her this morning. I was getting coffee at my favourite place, and there she was. She didn't see me, of course, I got out of there as fast as I could, heart pumping fast, skin filled with lost touches, mind abuzz.

I never thought she would still have that effect on me. I can still feel my lips tingling with her kisses after a decade.

She was feeding her daughter with her partner. They looked like the cutest family in the world.

That could have been me, that could have been us.

The kid would have her eyes, and my hair, of course.

I would be the reason for the smiles. We would share a look when our kid did something new and laugh about an inside joke.

It could have been me.

If I had only stayed when she asked me to.

If I had never gotten in that plane.

I am the one that got away, and I know it.

Looking back, maybe the Greeks had the right idea.

It doesn't matter now, does it? The gods have won.

I am miserable on my own.

She still wears the bracelet I gave her.

Both still longing for a love that is far gone.

Ph. 2022. When I got away.

[expressions-of-nature]

by Zhou Hong

[thebrainypizza203]

Grandma's Watch

I am one of the lucky ones that lived throughout their childhood with their grandma. My mom used to work a lot, dad wasn't in the picture. Well, I guess whether I'm lucky or not is to be seen.

This house is my home, I know every corner and hidden spot by heart. I've explored every dark and spider webbed nook and cranny this place has to offer. I've played hide and seek with my friends and exhausted all possible hideouts, slept in every bedroom this huge house has to offer.

This is the place where I feel safe at, and the one I've been trying to run from my entire life.

That being said, I never thought I would find, almost 30 years later, a secret compartment. I was just tidying up an old closet where we stash things we don't use, and when I moved a box a cockroach scared the shit out of me, pesky little things, the problem was, it literally dissapeared in front of my eyes. That's when I realized there was something under the floorboards.

As a curious person, of course I opened it, who wouldn't? It wasn't big by any standards, imagine like a shoe-box. Inside it, wrapped in a yellowed old cloth was a watch. I took it and realized it was my grandfathers. I had never met him, but my grandma wore that watch for as long as I can remember, I just couldn't figure why it would be there.

While I was cleaning it, I saw it had stopped at exactly 8.15 and on the back it had an inscription, in cursive writing was the date: 4/12/22.

I gasped, the date was today. I frantically searched for my phone, the time was 4.20 PM , I wasn't sure whether I was more disappointed or relieved. That was, until I realized, it could easily be 8.15 PM instead of AM.

I slowly got up and in a haze climbed down the stairs looking for my mum. I looked everywhere but she had left for work already, I tried to call multiple times but the call refused to go through. I sat down, got back up, paced for what I felt like hours.

Millions of possibilities ran through my head, what did it mean? I knew my mum wouldn't return until 10 PM, so I was on my own.

With 8.15 coming closer I trashed the house looking for answers in photographs, old diaries, old letters, nothing made sense, the date wasn't mentioned anywhere. No one in my family was even born or died on April, nor the 13th.

What would that date mean? Why was the watch hidden there? I thought we had lost it when grandma died, I actually always been drawn to it and asked for it on multiple times, she always said no, not yet.

As I'm writing this the clock keeps ticking. I only have 5 minutes left til 8.15.

8.11. It has to be a joke, grandma was always a joker, right?

8.12. Maybe I read it backwards and its December 4th.

8.13. I try calling my mom again.

8.14. Maybe it's 1922, that's a possibility too, right?

8.15. The doorbell rang.

Short story based on prompt: A woman finds something that shouldn't exist in a place she knows by heart.

[classicalcanvas]

Skull of a Skeleton with Burning Cigarette (1886) by Vincent van Gogh

[goth-queen]

[homunculus-argument]

This was supposed to be iridescent and have the colours shift in rotation, but I tried to reach that result by using methods that don't go that way. So here's a pulsating seashell.

[thebrainypizza203]

Jun 1st, 2026

7.57 AM

I was wondering how to start when I suck at introductions because nothing will ever be perfect, so here we go, let's pretend I've written something funny and interesting enough for someone to keep reading my ramblings.

I was just out in the balcony smoking a cigarette (and some weed too), after a long 9 hour shift at work.

I lit my cigarette just watching the street, as I usually do when I go out there. People coming and going, the cloudy sky, cars.

But in the midst of it all my neighbor came out the door with his wife, both smoking a cigarette.

And here is the thing, I've known them my entire life, and I realize I am today, one of the lucky people that lives in a neighborhood where the same families have been living for the past half a century.

They look at me and say Hi, yelling across the street, I shout back. We ask the usual pleasantries, how are you? How's your mom?.

Then the wife goes back inside, the eldest son comes out (a couple of years younger than me) and also say Hello to me.

It's so mundane, but maybe those things don't happen anymore. We are all so engrossed in our own phones and lives we don't talk to our neighbors, hell we barely talk our families.

p.s This all happened at 10 am. Which to me it's late evening. Graveyard shift and all.

[dailyclassicart]

Luigi Loir - "The Night Café" (1910)

[salmonella-destroyer-of-worlds]

[thebrainypizza203]

ph.

March 25, 2016

5.21 pm

This whole project and revisiting my old writings, photographs and drawing has filled me with many many thoughts.

I'm very proud of this picture. I love it. Because in my head and memory, this day is not gray at all. It's filled with laughter, the typical family jokes, having a boat ride, you know, I would even bet it was a Sunday. It felt like a Sunday, summer (even though it's autumn), family day. And yet here is this picture so gloomy, dark, cold, windy, fucking cloudy day.

Sometimes I wonder, did I feel that way inside too?

Was is sort of capturing what my soul was at that moment? I thought about how I said (to myself in an internal monologue) that photography is about capturing the moments, and yet many, many of my pictures were taking in a rush. A lot of them was in the middle of doing touristy things or in the way to other more important stuff. More often than not with weird backgrounds, never levelled, blurry af. I love those.

Was this like that? Just a random shot that turned out good cause it feels nostalgically and angst? Sometimes shit ain't that deep. WTF did I know? I was 17yo back then and thought I would become a doctor by 25. I was happy AND excited about passing the exam for medschool.

Maybe that shot was just that, a shot. Nothing else to search for in it, no deeper meaning.

Although, my dusty old long lost labcoat might say, that it was "Cronicas de una Muerte Anunciada" or in English, Chronicle of a Death Foretold. Which, according to the google AI is not as commonly used in english so here are some fucking synonyms.

Believe me, I'm more Bye-Lingual than bilingual.

English Equivalents:

If you are looking for other English idioms and phrases that convey a similar meaning, you can use:

An accident waiting to happen: Something with obvious flaws that is bound to fail eventually.

The writing is on the wall: A clear indication that failure or disaster is imminent.

A foregone conclusion: A result that is obvious long before it happens.

Coming events cast their shadows before: Early signs suggest what will happen in the future.

[goth-queen]

[thebrainypizza203]

I've thought , for long, about the second picture I would post. And by long, I mean 20 minutes while I got high watching The X Files, so don't take me too seriously.

I thought about one of my favorite picture I ever took, but then it's a cliched one. And I googled it. Hundreds of them staring at me.

" Manhattan Bridge Location: The photo is taken through a safety fence on the pedestrian walkway of the Manhattan Bridge. " As described by Gemini.

A lot of people taking hundreds of photos on the same spot, same place. It's not that special now, is it?

So here comes one even more cliched. Cause point me to the person who has stepped foot on that place and never taken a picture. Of course New Yorkers excluded, bc New Yorkers. I just couldn't resist. The lights were too pretty and it was a beautiful night (by my standards).

ph. Taken on 2020, a month and a half before COVID 19 was declared a pandemic.

May 30, 2026

04:51 am

[thebrainypizza203]

This is the last picture I took, and I wanted it to be the first. 

Many of the things I will share are not current at all. I'm reviewing the last 10 years of what can be considered "my art".

Someone recently asked me what I did for work and was surprised because apparently I look like an artist. 

I realized I sort of am. I've been writing, drawing, painting and taking photos my entire life. 

Art is part of who I am and often my place to connect with myself, I do "my art" because in the moment I feel the need to do it. 

Whether someone else considers it art or not, and myself an artist or not. Is beyond the purpose of this blog. 

Which is that of somewhat of a journal(? Not sure... Wasn't really thinking about it, I was bored on the graveyard and Claude gave me the idea. 

Which turned into this after two days of hyperfixation and counting. 

Not sure how long it will last.

Thu, 28 May 26. 

8.16 am.