#90 || “And when nobody wakes you up in the morning, and when nobody waits for you at night, and when you can do whatever you want. What do you call it, freedom or loneliness?”

 

Perhaps it was from May until maybe even the other day, I woke up in this nightmarish haze where it didn't seem real that everything had disappeared. People fear the prospect of abandonment and rejection but to experience it in the abundance that I did last year -- that unexpected and maybe self-inflicted loss was unlike anything I could have ever imagined was possible. Then the sensation suddenly became an addiction ;; I found myself reaching out to those who I knew didn't want to remember I existed, to hurt my heart with the feeling of being forgotten, over and over again. Like some kind of quasi-defense mechanism, it became easier to anticipate heartache and prompt it, than to even hope for the best.

I'm learning every day that the unconditional love that exists in songs and films and storybooks is more rare than I ever thought, it may even be endangered. We live in a world that is constantly manufacturing copies and concepts that make individuals less unique and less accommodating to uniqueness and singularity unless it acts in their favour. We're all so desperate to make an impression and to be loved that anything is better than something special, and that doesn't even count the irrational infatuation that we can't let go of despite all logic and common sense.

There is a fine balance that can exist but it doesn't, not right now. Loyalty and security and love mean next to nothing if there isn't anything to gain from it. We all feel so personally attacked by something so boundless and immeasurable and unforgiving and undiscriminating. Maybe it's ego or maybe we're frightened. In this moment, all I know is that it's okay to change your mind and your opinion and everything you are if you believe your actions are right and kind and won't break anybody's heart without reason.

 

That's all. Love (if it even exists anymore), A. xo

 

#89 || THE LOVERS, THE DREAMERS & ME

ATTN: ALL OF THOSE I'VE LOVED BEFORE

 

Do you remember the days when the love was so bountiful it could substitute sleep? Do you remember when the waking moments were the real dreams? I suppose just like any other storybook, when the pages start to become blank and you may or may not have had closure or the happy-ending that you wanted, maybe you'll miss the heroine for a minute or two but life doesn't wait for the perpetually confused.

Perhaps it contradicts logic to miss somebody who doesn't exist, who won't be there and who doesn't care. It wasn't self-respect, reassurance or pride that [will] helped me let you go, but copious amounts of time and continual signs from you indicating my insignificant existence in your world. Lately, I focus too much on the time until or the time since, that I can't seem to find the time now. I feel like I'm stuck in-between where I want to be and where I could be and maybe even where I should be. Sometimes my dreams are the wildest. I forget that dreams are impossible and they don't come true. Fairytales don't exist, you said. But who knows, you lied about everything else. It's okay though, because I can't make somebody love me and everybody loves so differently but it's just when I see the love exchanged between others, so organically and infinite, that's the love I want to want to give [... and receive]. I want it all most of the time not just sometimes and even if it had to be sometimes, then it needs to be fucking golden.

One year and a month ago I remember that despite losing just about everything, I felt so loved. Now one year and a month later, I have replaced everything I lost and more but in the process, I lost the love. The loneliness now seems beyond repair, I couldn't possibly accept love even if you begged and professed it from the rooftop because I'm that ugly on the inside. Just ask anybody who ever stopped wanting to be my friend. What do you do when you yourself are the toxic one? [ Tip: Hide away from the world and don't let anybody see what you're really like. ]

KISSES, 

A XO

 

P.S. Fuck you all anyway.

 

#88 || The World Is Mine by Samm Henshaw

This year has really taught me how to put myself in other people's shoes to generate a level of love and patience from places I didn't even know existed, in an abundance that I didn't know was possible. I've learned that a place exists between happy and sad. Over the last few months I've learned a lot about the limbo you can create when you're too afraid to let yourself feel disappointed. Because that's the compromise that comes with empathy;; it's the balance between hypocrisy and understanding.

When the pressure becomes overwhelming, I run to that place. I am my own best friend, I am the voice of reason, I am my own shoulder to cry on, But there's a catch ;; I find myself afraid of the goodness and the kindness of others, because I am terrified of situations where I can't control what happens. I know that this year has presented challenges that have nearly crossed the boundaries of what can be managed, and what can be survived. I know that places nobody should ever have to visit have been overwhelmed and crowded by undeserving individuals and if I could stand guard of the gate to those dark realms and forbid all from entering - I would.

If you can only believe that those who disappoint you did so in ignorance and oblivion, and that the souls you let into your life mean no malice, then that's one enormous step. The next baby step is to know that you're allowed to feel the way you feel about everything, that you can't control how you feel but you can control how you react. It's not your fault you want more, it's not your fault you had hopes higher than reality, and it's not your fault that you feel disillusioned when it feels like you're the only one missing out on the greenest-grass-fairytale-magic-miracle that everybody on the other side of the rainbow seems to have. The heartache will always be there, but if you place every foot in front of the other with your own purpose and intention, then that's all I can ask of you today.

Tomorrow ;; is a whole other story.
You really never know what tomorrow might bring, so don't write it off just yet and be prepared for everything.

[ ^^ Dear A, this is a little reminder for your every day. Love, A x ]     

"Where do you go when you go quiet?"

#87 || :: death bed ( coffee for your head ) ::

It feels like it's all evolving ; my-self and my alter-ego. For the first time in my life I feel like a solid single entity, I feel like I can truly co-exist with all of my thoughts.  to all the lovers in my heart, I still adore you to the (full) moon and back and a billion times over but right here in this moment, I think I will keep all the love locked up inside my heart and in my head. There is gold in this silence, I promise. I just need a minute (or a million) to collect and consolidate these notions and possibilities of my interconnectedness with the rest of the world and how I can make it work. I have always preferred solitude over superficiality and magic over mediocre. I would rather have nothing than normal and that's on me. Lately I have learned to shift the blame into oblivion, it's nobody's fault if I over-love and over-feel and under-everything else to balance it all out. not everybody is entitled to a happy ending and I have come to terms with a potential future full of uncertainty and heartache and misunderstanding. It's okay, I pinky swear. We'll all be okay.

Maybe I will look forever for a rabbit hole, maybe my auto-response to confusion will be to refrain from it all :: from physical and emotional nutriment, does that make any sense? It is so difficult to imagine that I deserve love and nourishment like the rest of the world. I think that's why I do it :: the only reaction is to abstain and avoid. so I don't feel any antipathy for your confusion or avoidance because it's on me. I will carry that forever - but you know, all I really want for you to remember me by, is that you felt entirely comfortable saying anything in the world in my presence, knowing that I would never -in a hundred thousand years- judge you or anybody else for feeling, for being, for wanting, for needing, for thinking, for remembering or for forgetting. I love you so much.



xo, A.
   


"Are we all designed to be confined?
Organise our lives and lose the key
Our faces all resemble dying roses
We've got to break it before it breaks us." - Metric

#86 || [ glitt3r in the $ky, glitter in 0ur eyes ]

Here we all still are, just post-    une nouvelle lune. What an interesting mars / mois, the nostalgia has been          w i l d    as of late. It's like a montage of carefully-curated memories flicker at the forefront of my mind, in combination with some incredible stills of what is yet to come. I am waiting (im)patiently for compassion to trump complacency (!), I am waiting for a stroke of luck and for a dream to come true. The method and meaning of everything seems to rear its little daisy-head through the     fog and haze     of the stress and anxiety and denial of everything that is happening all around us. The fear of it all reminds me of the same moon we see at night, it's the same     sun and moon     that orbit around this planet that we all share altogether.     

The contrast of every day, the            distance            so surreal it almost seems metaphorical? And I wonder why this was meant to be, because that seems important. The delicate balance of resistance and community and sacrifice and compromise and discomfort ::     I am  fearful of the fear, because when it felt like it was just me, it seemed like the entire weight of the world and now it's the world, it's the terror multiplied by seven point something billion and, no pun intended, it feels impossible to breathe under the immensity of everything.     outside,         You could cut the air, the tension is unreal. 

                 " But whatever , let's get lost on mars... " - Dula Peeps

With love, A. x