alienation has begun to feel great. I’m so upset with how unsuccessful i am with words and relationshipss. love, from friend, lover, family, has all been jaded. I’m possessed by my expectations and ruined by my inability to communicate and lack of proof of worthiness of anything close to the grandiose ideas of love that i swear I’m capable of.
i keep on asking people around me jokingly if “it” is going to get easier.
everyone seems to say from experience that is does not.
i am trying to enjoy my endeavors. the journey of life and whatnot. but i find a lot of alienation in that. having that disposition is apparently not very agreeable with most everyone.
you don’t get grades on genuine interest and curiosity.
you don’t get paid for learning from mistakes.
you don’t gain trust for expressing doubt.
i am ruthlessly protecting myself. i can’t believe I’m living this way.
i am completely exhausting from giving. customers are unsatisfied and even worse… i am viewed as a selfish, self-absorbed, overly dramatic, incapable, undeserving, crazy person.
im not my boyfriend’s type.
I’m my parents least-favorite kid.
im a shitty friend.
and I’m becoming obsessed with myself because I’m the only person who can potentially not refuse myself love. i can always forgive myself and love myself.
i feel very human.
i want to write a story about a god who comes to earth and unrequited love and somehow make all of the characters gender neutral and impossibly difficult times and impossibly perfect times. i want to write about somehow who is eccentric and is hated but remains completely unaffected and is the happiest person in the world. i want to write about the happiest person in the world. i want to write about a place that is very real and harsh but frequently turns into a perfect place ever so often. the whole scene just changes from a nice city with danger and it turns into heaven. i want to write about someone who dies very often but keeps coming back. i want to write about reincarnation and people who find other people unlike them and ask people to runaway. i want to write about being saved. and the difference in being saved and surviving. i want to write about very obviously dangerous situations. ..so dangerous they are comical and surviving
how do i stand up from where I’m sitting.
i feel uninspired to go to school and get a degree and a real job and marriage.
in fact, i have never felt inspired and I’m beginning to desperately need a way to not enter that life.
that life makes me shrink.
i don’t think i am well-liked because I’m not really perceivable…especially to myself.
I’m constantly switching and pulling and pushing.
i only feel happy and alive when i have the time to dedicate to the magic of my life and as much magic and bullshit as possible. seriously i need spells and prayers and wisdom from many different books and to constantly draw and create and believe and to have time and energy for each person that is the only way I’m happy and that doesn’t fucking work around here.
i am young, but i am still restless and dying.
being young is no reason to smile.
do you think i would be so happy just by walking around and existing? existence among people includes an awful lot of disappoint, mainly because i and everyone else seems we just can’t stop asking things of each other. ask nothing of me and i will love you forever. be a stranger to me forever and i will love you.
i am just bones layered with too much, what right do i have?
i want to be taken care of like a child by a pathetically kind man and i want to love him like i can.
i am going to make a mass campaign so that i can see despacio sound system in 18 days you will be bombarded with más información later
Someone replied to one of my previous photo sets saying that in this picture, Miko looks like Jesus fox. I cannot unsee this now.
Mr. Bielecki and Ms. Cybulska fell in love and escaped from Auschwitz together. They were then separated in the midst of World War II. While talking with her Polish cleaning woman in 1982, Ms. Cybulska related her Auschwitz escape story. The stunned maid said she had heard Mr. Bielecki tell the same story on Polish TV. She then helped Ms. Cybulska find Mr. Bielecki in Poland. In the summer of 1983, they met at the Krakow airport. He brought 39 red roses, one for each year they had spent apart.