“Hiding Your Hurt Only Intensifies It. Problems Grow In The Dark And Only Become Bigger And Bigger.

““When I ask you about your first love I am always secretly hoping that you will say your own name. Now, wouldn’t that be beautiful – to above else have a heart that was proud of itself.” - Bianca Sparacino”

—

“I walk along a street and see in the faces of the passersby not the expression they really have but the expression they would have for me if they knew about my life and how I am, if I carried, transparent in my gestures and my face, the ridiculous, timid abnormality of my soul.”

—

Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

Relationships are like two temporary lines meeting once and staying still for a given time.

No one expects them to stay still forever,it is almost an obligation that of growing together to better strengthen themselves for future events.

And as for the latter,they might not be practical happenstances or chosen career paths;

they might be no more than the meeting of new lines.

Whether each of them will be remembered or not is up to the mind of said person.

There’s no obligation in this,not even in letting each meeting last till its own time is up,which would be the natural course of life never actually followed through.

We’re all living temporary meetings with others,where there should be no necessity of planning nor of requiring more than is being given.

Let’s live relationships as they come,with no requests or overthinking,as if they were a random object you picked up and kept stored on one of your most precious shelves.

I wonder what kind of girl I would be if the patriarchy didn’t exist. If gender roles and stereotypes didn’t stain my entire being. If I didn’t suffer at the hands of misogyny that molded the clay that was me. I wonder what I would do, what I would say, what I would like, what I would crave, what I would be. The likelihood of us being anything close to similar seems slim considering how many things could be different. I just wonder what type of woman I would be if I hadn’t been told from the day I was born how and who I should become. Would I still enjoy wearing makeup if I hadn’t been conditioned to feel better about myself with it on? Would my favorite color still be orange if pink hadn’t been forced on me and I didn’t care to make a point of rejecting it? Would I stand up for myself more if I hadn’t been taught to cater to the comfort of others before prioritizing my own? Would my natural instinct still be to feel wary of those around me if abuse and harassment and assault were not normalized in our society? Would I still want long hair if I hadn't been brainwashed into believing that my beauty is rooted in being feminine, and that my value is rooted in being beautiful? Would I be the same? How much, or how little, would that impossible girl resemble me as I am now? And are my interests and passions genuine—truly mine—or can they all be linked to some expectation to accommodate, some predetermined role to serve, some juxtaposing desire to please a system I don’t even like. Do I actually love video games as much as I think I do, or do I only like them because I think it makes me appear cooler to men? Do I actually want to get married as much as I think I do, or do I only want to because historically that was where the female fit in? Do I actually find solace in journaling as much as I think I do, or do I only find solace in it because it is the only time I can share my traumatic experiences without being called a crazy attention seeker? There is so much I wonder about, which parts of me are real and which have been tinkered with. Which is just pure me, and which is because of something else. A factor of the patriarch. Of course I’ll never know, but that truth does not keep me from being curious about the girl who does not suffer from the wrath of an internalized male gaze and the burden of internalized misogyny. I bet she is lovely—free of the shackles—and I hope she feels at peace.

— alhwrites

— I'm glad your sickness, Marina Tsvetaeva (translated from the Russian by Elaine Feinstein)

I need to know

"I find talking hard I find explaining impossible And I find trying arduous

It was never easy to talk It was never possible to explain And it was burdensome to try

But I realized that to comprehend I had to write I had to read and I had to know more

And for that I will always love writing for I can finally communicate I shall always love reading for I see and understand myself through the characters And I will keep trying to know for I have to try and need to know"

"What cannot be said will be wept"

~Sappho

Saying the truth aloud could free me from this burden.Or will it not?

It's all new to me,what I'm feeling does not fall under any of the categories I've explored so far. I've fallen in a deep calm, like a lake without shores.

All I've collected in my life so far surrounds me.

I can't tell its purpose.

It does not feel as if it's trying to drown me,or even coaxing me into drowning myself.

It's distracting and compelling.

A friend told me something which is not far from the truth.The lake promptly absorbed it,and I could not see the end of what its raw form meant to me,not as I would've intended to.

It all weighs heavy on my soul.

I'm transitioning from my self-created alter ago to what I believe is my true self.

Is it hurting?I can't tell.

True pain does not feel as this does.

Maybe I'm not in pain.

It's not an option I can exclude.

Let's wait and see how this longed metamorphosis will take place.

2021/19/01

~Some Thoughts on Fantasy, Music, and Resonation~

I was recently listening to a friend talk about why philosophy was pointless, the idea that it was just discussion and no real change came of it. Unreal, impractical, useless. Overall, his reasons were undeveloped, underthought, and devoid of any real conviction and it seemed to me that he was far more confused as to why it was a source of study and the purpose it served than he was actually critical of the practice as a whole. But it got me thinking about the "unreal" and the impossible.

And it caused 2 thoughts to spring into my mind. First, fantasy at its core is the unreal. It is so magnificent because it simply cannot be. We explore the worlds made of a different yarn than our world. There are similarities, some things that are shared, but the rules of nature itself is the difference. A new world is made by using the mysterious pieces of our own world. Yet, the interesting thing about this phenomenon isn't the created thing, but rather the reaction to it. People love it, obsess over it, delve deeper into the lore and history of these unreal worlds. The feeling of exploration and the other feelings that those worlds inspire, the auras, the "vibes" are what pull people in.

Which brings me to my second thought, which is what those vibes invoke in me from other forms and mediums. Music, for instance.

Most people who I have spoken to listening to music are far more drawn to the lyrics of the song, than its ambiance, or its emotion in the music. Music draws forth an emotion in it's own right, which the lyrics add voice and thought to. Both are of immense importance to a song's creation, and neither can be of lesser value. Yet, those emotions which are incited by the music still exist, even if unrecognized. Thus, the musical vibe and the lyrical emotions are not only separate, but also shift how we resonate with the songs themselves.

All of this brings me to 2 unanswerable questions.

1. Does fantasy invoke the emotional response of a uniquely philosophical need for limitless potential?

And by that, I mean that as fantasy is outside of the realm of possibility, is it due to our natural inclination of creation? Or our need to explore the unknowns? The exploration of a new limitless-ness, rather than the confines of our universe?

2. Does our individual resonation with music reflect our adherence or non-adherence to artistic intentions? (In other words, is the way we enjoy the song predicated on how the author wanted us to interpret the song?)

Thought-Provoking Digital Illustrations by Davide Bonazzi That Expose The Flaws Of Our Modern Society.

“People made her tired. The way they were easy with one another, the way they seemed so natural, only made her sad.”

— Ann Patchett, The Magician’s Assistant