I don’t ever want to touch again without bleeding. It should never have been this easy to do. To feel, to be felt. I’ll chop my limbs off before I see myself naked again. Weave me into a cloth or leave me numb.
Category: Life in itself
This category contains many articles I am trying to filter out slowly. They all talk about life and the simple things we often miss out on, with a Christian touch to it.
Period. Beirut on ledge. skin. blood. bends. alone. lies. touch empty. air. air. air. pant. cough. cough. pant. air. air. air. air. air. stop. NO. STOP. air. aiR. aIR. AIR. a g a i n. cough cough pant. air air air air air.
Please don’t cook me
Last year, in a post a lot of you liked, I talked about why I like to wear baggy clothes:
Well, this post will make them stand for something scary and depressing [OMG I hate writing so much. I’m so bad with words I don’t even know why I still use them to say things. But the drawings are way too weird and personal to stand on their own. *sigh*]
Sure, wearing clothes twice my size helps me hide while also reminding myself how hard it so to like be a kid with other kids. But all that’s different now. I have friends…(I guess?)
I am at the precipice, at the edge of the cliff, so to say- the catcher in the rye catching himself with nothing but the wind that blows through the rye. It is all me. Nothing more, nothing less.
The apron has a long (stretchy-looking) strap that you can really push out with your tiny limbs. Which makes it incredibly appropriate for my purposes.
The fact that it is found in the kitchen and used right next to the hellfire that burns in space blue is just a happy coincidence.
The kitchen is the most dangreous place in the house. Knives and fire. You can really do some dumb stuff in there lol. HAHA
I just thought it would be cool to bring together the idea of BIG clothes, which I’ve already talked about, with the danger of the kitchen, of being ignored by the adult cooking- THE adult; the space between you and grown-ups so clear and hot. How um…mythical
No more ooh it’s an expression of my lack of belonginess and loneliness and reminder of heroes. Big clothes will from now on be like the apron. And I shall push against the strap and point to the sky.
It HAS to fit. I HAVE to move on. I need to grow up? No. I just need to grow. I can dissipate also. That’s alright. I just need to stretch enough to fill the apron.
I shall not bake in this heat.
Patti Smith’s Hands
Patti Smith has beautiful hands and I am a brown spongecake
A King’s Death
To be quartered, wrapped in paper that smells of chocolate that melted and froze till it couldn’t anymore, and sent to the ends of the earth where my festering wounds will preach the false gospel of my second coming. That is all I ask and all I expect from this world. The king is dead, long may the king die.
Alive to see the dawn
For those who gave and never heard back
As I write this, I have reached a point where I am ready to embrace death. I don’t think there is much left for me on this journey. There is not much I can offer this world as it truly does not understand me. I’m grateful to be healthy, have basic necessities. But that is where my love for life ends. My admiration for it will continue as it is fed by my imagination. However, this admiration I find to be of little use to others. It is created out of necessity and as such will always serve the purpose of keeping me alive but that is where its role ends. When I go, it dies with me. I always knew that my deep fear of the loss potential was just another stop on the road to utter hopelessness and belief that I truly don’t matter. What I yearn for and will continue to do so till my last breath is someone who will both understand me and encourage me. In all my life I have only come across people who are capable of one those things. And that does more harm than good. The belief in a God filled this hole for some time till it didn’t. I resist the urge to jump off a building because I love my mother, who is perhaps the only person I love. I’ve never cared much for the rest of the world. I am interested in people, I am intrigued by life, but I don’t love much. I’ve faked tears at many funerals not because I love people but because I believe some deserve tears. I hope that in this confusing in-between place where to cure loneliness feels like an inappropriate reaction, I’ll find my eternal rest in a way that doesn’t burden the ones who have given gifts that were never received.
Old Is More Than Gold.
Old will be worth much more than gold in a hundred years. Yep I’m keeping these cassettes.
From when I started this blog, the wonderful people here at WordPress have been extremely supportive. I’ve always loved writing and here, I’ve found great joy, thanks to you. I am starting a new testimonials page. If you can, do tell me why you like my blog. Has is helped you in any way? Do you enjoy reading my posts? I hope that in the coming years, I’ll reach more and more people and bring some laughter, perspective and joy to their lives. Here’s the link to the page: https://thefourthdimensionoflife.wordpress.com/testimonials/
I hope to see you there!
I saw a great movie today. A beautiful one.
The sun’s almost down here. The birds are all returning to their modest abodes. If every day was a movie, then this would be a very cliché ending. But yet this is beautiful. Every day is filled with ephemeral clichés that we seem to enjoy with a satisfaction that makes no sense at all. Stefan, haven’t you gotten tired of seeing the sunset, the flying birds, and the full moon? You’ve been loitering on this earth for 18 years. But no, you still enjoy them. They still make sense to you.
The movie I saw today ended with a cliché. And yes, I would have liked it to surprise me, but it didn’t. But yet, it was beautiful, full of meaning. Today, films are trying to survive. Everything is becoming cliché. Around a lakh movies are made every year. New clichés are made every day. Playwrights and directors are rocking their brains left and right to find something new.
Why do I never stop loving a good sunrise? Why do I never get bored with nature?
Is it the acceptance of my unawareness of many of the delicate details I have yet to see? Maybe.
I have a feeling that a cliché becomes annoying only when you are aware of a better possibility. If this is indeed true, then it is the limitations of my imagination that makes me fall in love over and over again with nature, love, beauty and another human being.
And that, I find extremely beautiful. In a world that keeps changing in time, I find it comforting to think that my sheer oblivion to an alternative for many things and my sheer inability to form one, makes what is there everlasting and beautiful.
God, you have indeed painted your glory in the skies and in the most minute vestiges of nature. I can’t find anything to replace it.