It’s weird to grow up in a family where you know you’re loved but you don’t feel loved. And then later in adulthood you understand how almost impossible it seems to cross that distance and let yourself experience closeness, how otherworldly love feels now and how love feels unbearable at times. You flinch when someone tries to wholeheartedly love you. And over and over you see so clearly how you cannot be loved unless it's from afar and love is mixed with that familiar sensation of distance and coldness.
you know how sometimes you can feel yourself fully, like totally conscious, and when you write or draw in that state, what you make is pure, and you can always feel your energy through it...
there have been times i was so disconnected from myself, i still wrote, but... Feeling that energy makes me a little sick, to empathize with my past self hurts. I can't remember how bad it was before until i reconnect. Time has stripped me of so much... I needed to be stripped.
now, consciousness returns. I can breathe through my writing, though it's not totally easy. Mourning lost time, lost chances, should be a swift step forward. cannot dwell there.
Sometimes I wake up and my mind is plagued by him. I think every day recently has been. I can only imagine that he'd be pleased to know how much I have to think about him.
It's not like he leads a happy life. He's dependent on acknowledgment from other people. Pathologically!!
Whenever I use the term narcissist to describe him, I always get the same disbelieving looks. Oh, everyone throws that word around. You don't understand. My dad is a real life, honest-to-god pathological narcissist. It's not a happy life. He himself is burning, and he burns everyone that enters his life. I just wish I didn't have to be born into it.
It was maybe five months ago or so that My dad told me it was "okay" and he "wouldn't mind" if I went no contact with him. Wow. It's sinking in now. My mom told me about how when she first started getting pregnant, he didn't like it. The first week she found out she was pregnant was when he first went to a strip club.
My dad never wanted us. He resented us to some extent. And now, was this his plan all along? to traumatize us to the point of no longer contacting him?
The Pavement Surgeon
Lyon-based artist Ememem repairs holes in sidewalks and walls with colourful mosaics. Ememem’s first mosaic dates back 10 years when he found himself in a damaged alley in Lyon.