“Why do you want to shut out of your life any uneasiness, any misery, any depression, since after all you don’t know what work these conditions are doing inside you? Why do you want to persecute yourself with the question of where all this is coming from and where it is going? Since you know, after all, that you are in the midst of transitions and you wished for nothing so much as to change. If there is anything unhealthy in your reactions, just bear in mind that sickness is the means by which an organism frees itself from what is alien; so one must simply help it to be sick, to have its whole sickness and to break out with it, since that is the way it gets better.”
― Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet
-Christina Georgina Rossetti, Remember
-Frederick Leighton, Orpheus and Eurydice
-Mary Elizabeth Frye, “Do not Stand at my Grave and Weep”
-‘The Death of Hyacinthus’, Giovanni Battista Tiepolo
Poems in italics, art piece in bold.
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“I turned away because I thought you were the problem
Tried to forget until I hit the bottom
But when I faced you in my blank confusion
I realized you weren't wrong, was a mere illusion
It really didn't make sense
Just to leave this unresolved
It's not hard to go the distance
When you finally get involved, face to face”
Face to face - Daft Punk
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I’ll never stop
Cried on my way to work today
Screaming empowering songs in the car but not feeling them
Yesterday was one of the harder days
I lost you...again
And no matter how many times we’ve already been through this, the pain never lessened
24 hours, from “Hey we should be spending more time together” to “We should end things here, I can’t do this no more”
Again and again and again
Loving you ruins me
~ excerpts of me moving on ~
In case the text is hard to read. Read below.
Once she smiled, once she laughed.
Once she ran, once she sang.
Once she stayed dancing in the light.
Once she waved with all her might.
Once she screamed, once she spoke.
Once she was happy, till all her roses grew.
Thorns were pretty.
They hurt, they draw blood.
They smelled nice, they smelled nice.
They bloomed, they bloomed with colours.
Then it all started to fall apart.
Throns grew, flowers fell.
Her smile vanished. Her voice cutting.
Her feet cold. Her eyes, wet.
Once fake was just a word, now it's life.
Once words were spoke, now they're gone.
Once screams were heard, now they're silent.
Once flowers bloomed, now they withered to dust.
So, I wrote this quite long ago, for what? I don't know. What came to my head? No idea.
But somehow, I feel like I was trying to be emo.
Is.....is this emo?
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