Slow Motion See Me Let Go

SLOW MOTION 

Third Eye Blind

"Miss Jones taught me English 
But I think I just shot her son 
'Cause he owed me money 
With a bullet in the chest you cannot run 
Now he's bleeding in a vacant lot 
The one in the summer where we used to smoke pot 
I guess I didn't mean it 
But man, you shoulda seen it 
His flesh explode "

I used to listen to this song on repeat, on DXM. It all made me feel like I was dying, peacefully under water. Because it made losing control okay. 

"...and her nose starts to bleed - a most beautiful ruby red"

Because it made destruction beautiful.

"Urban life decay...I shut the door to her moaning, and aI shoot smack in my veins."

"See my neighbor's beating his wife 
Because he hates his life 
There's a knock to his fist as he swings 
Oh man, what a beautiful thing "

"And death slides close to me "

Because it was such a soft, gentle song, by a band I used to listen to when I was 11 years old, and they made this song with gentle piano notes about abuse and destruction and needles and sex and murder and domestic violence. And it is truly beautiful. The song, the lyrics, the feeling. 

sleep & happiness so far away so hard to attain

I just want two things right now

1) to be able to sleep

2) to be relatively happy

Why are these so impossibly fucking hard?

All the time, 

ALL. THE. TIME. 

I just want to know when did it get so complicated from the time I caught a glimpse of your handwriting and thought "you were meant for me," from the the time when we were just two hurting, awkward, dyed-haired teenagers who loved each other to death and wanted nothing more in the world but to lay in bed together for just a few hours? Why does the world insist so on getting in the way of that?

Silenced

I found this beautiful article, the subject of which encapsulated so much of what is dear to me and my life's pursuit, about men held in solitary confinement. The article was a photo exposition of these men, as they were being granted the chance to be photographed for the first time in years - an odd concept for most of us these days, so accustomed to an endless stream of photographs as we are, and over-saturated by them. It is truly a beautiful idea, and these men gave the most incredible verbal accompaniments to their experiences - words that put the greatest existentialist philosophers to shame, words that elicited the most dire and true emotions that most of us never allow ourselves to feel. I was so happy for the opportunity to to publicize their words, spread the genuineness and great exposition of emotion by these men, on this blog.

I had so enjoyed promoting that wonderful article, and the words of the men therein - such important messages to spread to the world - some of the most real words most people will ever hear - those men telling their incredible stories.

I want to take the opportunity to apologize to the men of the article. I tried to spread your stories, your struggles. But yours was demanded to be silenced.

Ruth Gwily

This is the most real and painful art + writing I have ever seen. Illustrations must be observed in coordination with titles for full effect. I bow down to this woman's ability to not only artistically capture the essence of faces, and of imagery...But more so, just to go to these places.

www.ruthgwily.com/illustrations.html

Here are a few of the most poignant examples (to me):

"Abusive prison ward for the mentally ill"

 

"Open adoption - the adopted child stays in touch with his biological mother"

"Criminal kids practise creative writing, as therapy"

"Pro anorexia blogs on the internet"

"the impossibility of love that makes it possible"

"How children destroys marriage"

This one is the most frightening, to me personally:

" 'vacancy' a horror film"

It just seems like she is willing to explore and lay bare some of the most sensitive subjects of our time, ones that most people won't even bring up in conversation because it makes most everyone around too uncomfortable. 

That strong suggestion in the art work itself, coupled with the unwithholding titles that drive the depiction home, it's just, so bold and so real, and so hard. Like "How children destroy marriage" - no one wants to fucking say that. 

I appreciate the most the rare things in life I encounter that keep me real, and keep me most true to my 12 year old to 17 year old self - the one who would not compromise authenticity for anything.

Comment asking about format/blog template

Someone sent me a comment asking what template I am using for this blog. My apologies I accidentally deleted it. I'm just using one of the basic pre-made blogger templates, in the "Simple" category, and I've  gone to the 'Layout' section just above the 'Template' selection option and added things as blogger allows for. Feel free to ask me again if that doesn't answer your question.

Warsan Shire

"Not everyone is okay with living like an open wound. But the thing about open wounds is that, well, you aren’t ignoring it, your healing, the fresh air can get to it. It’s honest. You aren’t hiding who you are. You aren’t rotting. People can give you advice on how to heal without scarring badly. But on the other hand there are some people who’ll feel uncomfortable around you. Some will even point and laugh. But we all have wounds. "

...And there are those poets - few and far between - who make you and your writing feel so small because yours pales in comparison, but make your heart and your spirit swell and soothed, because she let unarticulated emotions inside of you be okay in her expression of how she has felt them too.

To Be Vulnerable And Fearless: An Interview with Writer Warsan Shire

This reading stopped me (below). Made me pull out my own guts and heart and made me want to re-comit to my teenage self that swore she would never, ever be dishonest with herself. It reminded me that I have some recovering to do.

For Women Who Are 'Difficult' To Love