00:54
00:54
14 oct
It’s all on me
The Air that cloaks me is so still. I’m out past midnight and im scared. In a run down government funded hospital with floors that remind me of myself- so deeply dented and dirty that there exists nothing to cleanse it.
The low hum that the vending machine sings is accompanied with random outburst of the intercom calling for a doctor. This is a place of pain, a medium in which sickness and dread gather.
She tired to take her life. So soon, is all that I thought. Although she is physically alright, there is this distant pain that stings me- what if I had not answered the phone.
I hate to say it but she has proven them right, she is weak. But I only hate myself for thinking such and dread the fact that such thought occurred about my beloved.
I thought I would be able to catch up on sleep, but here I am seated on a steel cold bench waiting for the patient and her companion to come out. I don’t even know what they are doing to her. But I do hope she is not in pain.
Am I selfish for wanting her to stay? Yes…
But then again I think if she truly wanted to leave she would have by now. Her calling me gathered the fact that she still has hope, without hope she would be past that point.
But oh man, am I tired. Since she has not lived up to the expectations now I must. This is not words that have been directly communicated but rather suggested and installed throughout my youth.
I don’t feel much, I usually don’t when traumatic events happen, and it truly scares me. Why is that I am unable to process my emotions on that moment. It is only much later that they flood my mind and slash my skin.
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That gets me thinking about my approaching death. Death - the birth of my end. A begining to an end.
I have romantised my death so much so that I fantasise about it at times. It comforts me that one day all of this noise and music will stop. That i will be forgotten and i will not even remember that.
But i am impatient for this destiny to forth, i want it now. If i were to complete my final act and have my beauty froze. To shorten this life i know i have lived enough.
I am certain of this death and often anticipate my end. Surviving everyday has become so tiring.
Lord if u be, grant me this wish.
End me.
Im tired
And scared
(Typos ik)
there should be punishment to those that robbed me of my youth. i cannot shake the feeling that i deserved far better
Maybe this is my best
Pea Soupy Fog on St. Patrick's Day. 6:50 to 7:05 am. 51° F, with light rain. March 17, 2025. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT (@dkct25)
We suffer not from the events in our lives but from our judgment about them.
Epictetus
— dissociation
the book of disquiet by fernando pessoa // a breath of life by clarice lispector // againts the mass of the night by kaye donachie // how to dissapear completely by radiohead // normal people by sally rooney // rené magritte // virgina woolf // by me // enrico robusti
Im just always wrong
Everytime i try to do anything, help someone help myself, love… im wrong. I feel as if i will never get this life thing right. Im careless and i hate that about myself. I make so many mistake i question if i myself am one. Im scared i wont every get this right.
Ive criticised of everything that i do to the point where i even question waking up. What if im not doing it correctly. The dread i feel forcing myself out of bed because i know that during my day i will yelled at for doing something, anything. Criticised for trying again. I hate this all. I completely, whole heartedly hate it all. There is somehow always a problem with me. I cannot take it
If i were to ever take my life it is because i don’t think I’m doing it right. Something about me is terribly off, my death is a mere correction a flaw.
I know I’m being far too critical with myself but i cannot help it, I’ve been judged for everything i have tried. Knowing that i am certainly a failure why should i aspire to be more. Of course, i still have a dream, a desire to heal and love others but i fear that when i try to climb up ill fall at the worst time. A fall so high there would be maroon gore splattered everywhere, i might even knock off the person that climbs underneath me.
Killing us both.
Wish I was a boy
Just as he is dead to me, i am to him. His stubbornness has buried our love.
“Breathe. You’re going to be okay. Breathe and remember that you’ve been in this place before. You’ve been this uncomfortable and anxious and scared, and you’ve survived. Breathe and know that you can survive this too. These feelings can’t break you. They’re painful and debilitating, but you can sit with them and eventually, they will pass. Maybe not immediately, but sometime soon, they are going to fade and when they do, you’ll look back at this moment and laugh for having doubted your resilience. I know it feels unbearable right now, but keep breathing, again and again. This will pass. I promise it will pass.”
— Daniell Koepke
