sometimes i am still the one living the past and yet my present self is cranked so off from it and i am still triggered by certain sensational mediators that fixate me to the past be they melodies or smells or sights and i don’t know what to do.
sometimes i feel my physical body has come too far to experience the tenderness again but reliving the moments is not so impossible because although i am not as much fond of my present self as my past one, i am made of a bunch of different nostalgia residues after all!
so my sense of time has been and always will be incomplete and immature and will forever stay that way.
ritualized memorial service, 2015
and just so you know i still have so much love for myself no matter what
what is a way to empower myself, a postgrad with a BFA, independent yet financially struggling, with no mother cell in physical proximity, with no A/C in my room and sweating like a pig?:
I gave it some deep thought and came up with the following possible solutions:
- be the utmost bitch:
sometimes i do some hardcore slaughter in my dream🌟 once i had to spoon out the eyeballs of a middle aged male and the graphic moment was a triumph and forever end of some of my introverted fear
- get an A/C and/or shower a lot
i am a financially struggling child, spoiled. because I am constantly angry and cussing i.e. right before going to sleep everyday acknowledging tomo will be another worse day in this wretched unsupportive society and i have to disassemble this gimongous loft bed myself in a few f’ing weeks!!! when the fan is at max and it just only blows hot air at my face i am very infuriated. so i have to continuously remind myself to cleanse.
- touch myself more and climax, spread the word
as a pinnacle of autosexual romance, i should look more into boy-meets-girl, that is, self-meets-self rom coms that accentuates euphoric purity of heart. make it into a movie and get signed
has been never more difficult in my life. mostly and probably it means more realization in general, more physical activity and susceptible surges. maybe the last one won’t apply much. my mom was the kind of person who just didn’t seem to understand the millennial shitrage was real. which involves all sorts of things. a millennial is not a millenial without any kind of disorder. so my mom probably doesn’t understand. and I too am not really a faithful daughter. we come from different worlds yet our neural processes somehow embraced each other in a weird way that salted potato chips-meets-vinegar would somehow make sense. but when things have to come to a certain stage it involves much more independence. so although i wasn’t exactly nice to her on the surface i shed some tears on my own and am now waiting for her call not knowing in the slightest degree when. tomorrow i will order what will soon to be a rare occasion from now on, that is, having an extra-large pizza delivered to my place and demolishing all the grease and feeling fucked up yet slightly euphoric.
p.s. fuck y’all spammers spamming the purest nonprofit blog of a child who juss wants to lash out!!!!😭🖕🖕