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5ab42bf
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"Yesterday it was sun outside. The sky was blue and people were lying under blooming cherry trees in the park. It was Friday, so records were released, that people have been working on for years. Friends around me find success and level up, do fancy photo shoots and get featured on big, white, movie screens. There were parties and lovers, hand in hand, laughing perfectly loud, but I walked numbly through the park, round and round, 40 times for 4 hours just wanting to make it through the day. There's a weight that inhabits my chest some times. Like a lock in my throat, making it hard to breathe. A little less air got through and the sky was so blue I couldn't look at it because it made me sad, swelling tears in my eyes and they dripped quietly on the floor as I got on with my day. I tried to keep my focus, ticked off the to-do list, did my chores. Packed orders, wrote emails, paid bills and rewrote stories, but the panic kept growing, exploding in my chest. Tears falling on the desk tick tick tick me not making a sound and some days I just don't know what to do. Where to go or who to see and I try to be gentle, soft and kind, but anxiety eats you up and I just want to be fine. This is not beautiful. This is not useful. You can not do anything with it and it tries to control you, throw you off your balance and lovely ways but you can not let it. I cleaned up. Took myself for a walk. Tried to keep my eyes on the sky. Stayed away from the alcohol, stayed away from the destructive tools we learn to use. the smoking and the starving, the running, the madness, thinking it will help but it only feeds the fire and I don't want to hurt myself anymore. I made it through and today I woke up, lighter and proud because I'm still here. There are flowers growing outside my window. The coffee is warm, the air is pure. In a few hours I'll be on a train on my way to sing for people who invited me to come, to sing, for them. My own songs, that I created. Me--little me. From nowhere at all. And I have people around that I like and can laugh with, and it's spring again.
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lovely
madness
lovers
new-day
gratitude
drinking
joy
inspiration
sadness
music
songs
happiness
hope
be-okay
fine
panic-attacks
park
starving
panic-attack
chest
sound
ed
okay
self-destruction
wellness
grateful
hopeful
anxiety
alcohol
coffee
spring
well-being
art
singing
hurt
balance
sky
flowers
crying
focus
panic
sing
tears
walking
hopeless
recovery
sad
self-harm
smoking
mental-health
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Charlotte Eriksson |
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d4437c5
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There's a pulse in my body, vibrating every pressure point.
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kissing
just-kissing
rachel-young
isaiah
fine
intimate
shirt
jeans
touching
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Katie McGarry |
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0fbd180
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"Furono trovati tra tutte quelle carcasse raccapriccianti due scheletri di cui uno teneva l'altro strettamente abbracciato. Uno di questi due scheletri, che era quello di una donna, aveva ancora qualche brandello di una veste la cui stoffa doveva essere stata bianca e intorno al collo una collana di adrezarach con un sacchettino di seta, ornato di vetri verdi, che era aperto e vuoto. Quegli oggetti avevano cosi poco valore che senza dubbio il boia non li aveva voluti. L'altro, che teneva questo primo scheletro strettamente abbracciato, era lo scheletro di un uomo. Fu notato che aveva la colonna vertebrale deviata, la testa nelle scapole, e una gamba piu corta dell'altra. Non aveva pero alcuna rottura di vertebre alla nuca, ed era evidente che non era stato impiccato. L'uomo al quale apparteneva era dunque andato la, e la vi era morto. Quando si cerco di staccarlo dallo scheletro che abbracciava, si disfece in polvere. " - Notre-Dame de Paris, V. Hugo"
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esmeralda
finale
notre-dame-de-paris
polvere
quasimodo
fine
ending
end
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Victor Hugo |
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a4a9f3c
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Glielo spiegai; non a parole, ma nel linguaggio della carne, di labbra, lingua e mani, del respiro accelerato e del pulsare del sangue nelle vene, nell'umore salato del desiderio. E la stessa domanda che poniamo alla nostra esistenza, e anche la risposta e sempre la stessa. Il mistero non e nella domanda e neppure nella risposta, ma nel continuare a domandarsi e a rispondersi, perche la fine e generata dall'inizio.
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domanda
inizio
risposte
dubbi
fine
esistenza
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Jacqueline Carey |