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e quante canzoni che mi devi consigliare ancora

e quanti film ti devo consigliare io.

consigli reciproci

spesso buoni

spesso pessimi.

e che fa male vedere un film e pensare “oh questo ora gli dico di vederselo” e poi ricordarsi che non ci scriviamo più.

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I understood not having your heart

I understood not being lovers,

I cant understand

Not having your hand,

We were friends…

Before this began,

Please don’t forget

We were friends,

This was double the heartbreak

Please come back again,

Even if just once

My friend

Hold my hand.

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“There’s little in taking or giving

There’s little in water or wine

This living, this living , this living

was never a project of mine.

Oh, hard is the struggle, and sparse is

the gain of the one at the top

for art is a form of catharsis

and love is a permanent flop

and work is the province of cattle

and rest’s for a clam in a shell

so I’m thinking of throwing the battle

would you kindly direct me to hell?”

Dorothy Parker

-via posttoxic

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𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐛𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 !

𝐑𝐞𝐟 : 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝟑 𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐁𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐢


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30/05/2020 7:14PM / I keep trying to confess to a crime I can no longer name. I grew my mind/life around it — like a Poe character or Genet character or Genet himself (or perhaps, even a parasite?). Of course, I am talking about love and what’s more: a love that was never meant to be or happen or ever exist [the love that haunts], the old cliche, and like the old cliche, of course, it did happen, which was beautiful and tragic all at once. Picture: roses, lots and lots of roses, pink and oregold, and then also a thousand kisses and a hundred more and then  — why the hell would you waste them, they’d say. That’s what I did. Life imitates art, yes? no, that is a trap. You’re in terrible danger when you start to live your art. It is better to write [be outside/detached] than become a puppet, a character, a bead-eyed doll, and yes, it still feels like that, even now. I feel like I have become somebody else’s Dream, somebody else’s Creature  — that is, when I get vulnerable and it’s hard to escape like now or pretty much any time  when my eyes/heart is soft. Venus Rx is doing this to me, I’ve been told. At times like this I feel as if I’ve lost my personal [emotional] agency and have been sentenced to life lived through the eye [the heart] of the Other, or rather: the Beholder, the Beloved. (Perhaps the real cause of this is that I have eaten Him or He’s eaten me, and now there is no real difference and I can no longer tell where I begin and He ends which makes me feel insane). It’s exhausting to get your heart broken on repeat (over and over and over again) so I keep scratching at the walls, the yellow wallpaper, in search of freedom [relentless]. This is all this ever was about. God, yes, I loved but I want out.

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…its because I can’t run to you, to the one who made me feel like my tears were worth something, rather than meaningless drops of solitude.

Ironic, because now I’m only able to gift you my tears, whereas I’d want to share a bundle of happiness.

But believe me, I would if I felt some. I would run to you without a worry in the world, but its because I have never had anything else to offer but my tears, that I can’t run to you.


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