La vie en Rose, y todos los parajes escondidos entre montañas.
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#photography #photograph #fotografa #fotografaslatam #photography #photographers
La vie en Rose, y todos los parajes escondidos entre montañas.
.
.
.
#photography #photograph #fotografa #fotografaslatam #photography #photographers
I feel fucking paralyzed right now. Things just seem the epitome of shit. I feel numb most the time, until the slightest thing changes and then I’m so stressed I can’t sit still, let alone sleep.
And yet when I hear bad news, personal or otherwise, I just skip straight to acceptance, like some kind of expert grief speed run. It takes me a day at most to get there. Thousands dying every day? Risk of catching a life threatening virus? High likelihood that I’ll miss out on a place at my dream university because of a technicality? *Shrug* It is what it is.
I know I’m not doing great, like half the fucking planet right now. But the real issue is that I have no outlet (besides this I guess). Uni is all “access our wellbeing page uwu” and then they have no appointments to talk to anyone and the self help advice is having a calming fucking bath. The least they could do is admit they’re out of their depth with this pandemic (not that they fucking weren’t before).
I can’t even go to my friends since they’re all feeling the same. Hardly anyone has capacity to answer messages right now, myself included, let alone listen to someones problems. It’s understandable but it’s lonely as fuck and equally frustrating that I feel so useless at helping them.
The whole situation means I’m regularly riding the waves of self harm. I haven’t relapsed yet and hopefully that’ll continue. But I can’t deny the appeal of finally having a few hours of relief; of finally feeling pain I can control; of finally feeling fucking anything at all. It’s easy enough not to accidentally spend 10 minutes prying a razor out of something. What’s more difficult is realizing that I’m being burned by a hot water bottle and still choosing not to move, or catching myself hoping for a life-threatening diagnosis like some kind of suicide with extra steps. When all your mind and body wants to do is hurt itself, sometimes becoming consciously aware you’re doing it comes too late.
Do you even know that I still cry about you? Do you even know that I can´t breath when anyone says your name? Do you even know that I still have to lay down whenever I hear a song that reminds me of you? Do you even know that my mom still talks about you from time to time? Do you even know that whenever I want to take a walk there is a millisecond when I think about texting you because we used to take walks? Do you even know that I still can´t trink melon soda because it reminds me of the taste of you lips? Do you even know that I can´t enjoy snow anymore because it reminds me of the night when I knew that I loved you? Do you?
more 💘
Make it stop, pls.
“Designing Time” by Kalliope Amorphous
Come back, pls, I really miss you.
I really miss you.
No te extraño, extraño todos y cada uno de los momentos en los que no me odié a mí mismo,
Extraño el extraño bienestar que tu felicidad me brindaba, extraño ver el mundo a través de tus ojos y creer que realmente podía ser un lugar agradable.
Extraño el día y la noche, la noche y tu presencia en ella. Extraño tu compañía y tu permanencia. Extraño tu voz opacando con susurros todos los gritos en mi cabeza.
Extraño tus labios en mis cicatrices, haciéndome creer que no existían, que no dolían. Extraño tu olor en mi ropa, en mi piel.
No te extraño, extraño la rara sensación de que podía lograrlo todo sin mover un dedo, extraño sentirte en cada parte de mí, moviendo mi cuerpo inerte como si fuera una marioneta y tú mi titiritero, obligándome a caminar aún cuando mis piernas estaban rotas.
Extraño ser el hombre más apuesto del planeta, el más inteligente, el más fuerte. Ahora que mis fuerzas se han ido contigo, te extraño. Te extraño y extraño no extrañarte, te extraño y extraño que me extrañes.
Extraño ser todo y no un simple extraño.
Extraño tus ojos y extraño verme en ellos.
Extraño verte dormir y no dejarte dormir.
Te extraño, me extraño, nos extraño. Definitivamente no te extraño, te extraño.
The first time I saw her... Everything in my head went quiet. All the tics, all the constantly refreshing images just disappeared. When you have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, you don’t really get quiet moments. Even in bed, I’m thinking: Did I lock the doors? Yes. Did I wash my hands? Yes. Did I lock the doors? Yes. Did I wash my hands? Yes. But when I saw her, the only thing I could think about was the hairpin curve of her lips.. Or the eyelash on her cheek. the eyelash on her cheek. the eyelash on her cheek. I knew I had to talk to her. I asked her out six times in thirty seconds. She said yes after the third one, but none of them felt right, so I had to keep going. On our first date, I spent more time organizing my meal by color than I did eating it, or fucking talking to her... But she loved it. She loved that I had to kiss her goodbye sixteen times or twenty-four times or if it was Wednesday. She loved that it took me forever to walk home because there are lots of cracks on our sidewalk. When we moved in together, she said she felt safe, like no one would ever rob us because I definitely locked the door eighteen times. I’d always watch her mouth when she talked. When she talked. When she talked. When she talked. When she talked. When she said she loved me, her mouth would curl up at the edges. At night, she’d lay in bed and watch me turn all the lights off.. And on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off. She’d close her eyes and imagine that the days and nights were passing in front of her. Some mornings I’d start kissing her goodbye but she’d just leave cause I was just making her late for work... When I stopped in front of a crack in the sidewalk, she just kept walking... When she said she loved me her mouth was a straight line. She told me that I was taking up too much of her time. Last week she started sleeping at her mother’s place. She told me that she shouldn’t have let me get so attached to her; that this whole thing was a mistake, but... How can it be a mistake that I don’t have to wash my hands after I touched her? Love is not a mistake, and it’s killing me that she can run away from this and I just can’t. I can’t – I can’t go out and find someone new because I always think of her. Usually, when I obsess over things, I see germs sneaking into my skin. I see myself crushed by an endless succession of cars... And she was the first beautiful thing I ever got stuck on. I want to wake up every morning thinking about the way she holds her steering wheel.. How she turns shower knobs like she's opening a safe. How she blows out candles. Blows out candles. Blows out candles. Blows out candles. Blows out candles. Blows out… Now, I just think about who else is kissing her. I can’t breathe because he only kisses her once — he doesn’t care if it’s perfect! I want her back so bad... I leave the door unlocked. I leave the lights on.
- Neil Hillborn.