I’ve been getting good at dying. I have mastered the art of disintegrating mid-conversation. Your name rolls off my tongue like a suicide note. I let its two syllables stain the walls of my room red, until every surface is tinted with the rosy glow of your goodbye.
You breathed life into me by loving me. When you meet someone with my name and do not instantly think of me, I will fall to the ground-gone, forgotten. I’ve been preparing myself. I’ve been getting good at dying.
"You tried to change, didn’t you? Closed your mouth more, tried to be softer, prettier, less volatile, less awake…You can’t make homes out of human beings. Someone should have already told you that."
& maybe if I die you’ll understand the meaning in my words.
May 20
so anxious. Between decisions of me or decisions of disease. I want to be in bed with warmth , with a book with love and words. I want to be on the couch . watching television with no stress. the deciding factors are making me anxious . i cant decide and i am stressing
pronunciation | “so-frO-‘sU-nA Greek script | σωφροσύνη note | To everyone who is thinking “I want to get there” and also to everyone who is thinking “I’ll never get there”—you will. Even if it’s a battle, keep fighting, because you are good and strong and valuable, and your happiness is worth it.
chema madoz is a surrealist photographer whose work i’ve seen floating around the interwebs but never knew who was behind them. his work stoof out to me because it was funny and clever, which is a unique quality for surrealism.
