Just try and figure out your own divorce. And they say there is no fate, but there is: it's what you create. And even though the world goes on for eons and eons, you are only here for a fraction of a fraction of a second. Most of your time is spent being dead or not yet born. But while alive, you wait in vain, wasting years, for a phone call or a letter or a look from someone or something to make it all right. And it never comes or it seems to but it doesn't really. And so you spend your time in vague regret or vaguer hope that something good will come along. Something to make you feel connected, something to make you feel whole, something to make you feel loved. And the truth is I feel so angry, and the truth is I feel so fucking sad, and the truth is I've felt so fucking hurt for so fucking long and for just as long I've been pretending I'm OK, just to get along, just for, I don't know why, maybe because no one wants to hear about my misery, because they have their own. Well, fuck everybody. Amen.
Of whom I most admire: And I Love You (top) Swan Dive (bottom)
Artist: Laurel Holloman
I feel so displaced in every way. Uprooted. Uplifted. Reality shifted. I need to get this off my chest. But i can't explain the way I feel, as I have never felt these feelings before. To be totally alone is to be totally honest with oneself. I am learning about myself for the first time it seems and surprisingly I really like what I find. Not under the layers of suppressed individualism do i find scared uncertainty, but rather a bold idealistic young spirit that knows exactly what to do. Deepest satisfaction in the survival and preservation of an essence. It's beauty in a raw form and honesty served 3xs a day. I never expected results to yield this, but here I am . It feels fucking fantastic. To love myself in the rawest form and to answer to no one. I stand alone and each passing minute gives me confidence that tomorrow will be a better day.