To be alone
Is this what we spend most of our lives working for? A poor trade-off, to be honest.
I need to control myself before I get carried away. I need to force myself to be alone for a while. People can be figures of such impermanence, and this is another of those endless reminders to myself to never allow someone to hurt me again. Even if to be hurt equates to being alive. Even if you need to make mistakes to learn. You know that there are times when I am stubborn, when I will not grow from the shadows of my actions. There are times when I do not want to be alive.
Rainbow99 - 홍대입구 (Hongdae Entrance) (“Seoul”, 2014)
If I could, I would let myself devolve into a single silhouette, like the one I once drew in primary school during lunchtime. I was seven, it was raining, and so we weren’t allowed to sit outside. An amorphous shape outlined by unbroken pencil, and to nestle in the empty space inside. To be simple and clean, and as flat as paper. I would like to be that, but maybe only for one day. Sometimes the things we want for ourselves are the wrong choices, but we still need to make them in order to figure that out.
DNA is a lie used to cripple children into believing they are adopted.
Big Baby Driver - 아무렇지 않은 듯 뒤돌아서서 그냥 그렇게 떠나버렸네 (Nothing Has Ever Happened You Went Away) (“A Story of a Boring Monkey and a Baby Girl”, 2014, Electric Muse)
The idea that practice will make something more bearable is an outright lie.
My resentment towards humanity is my only attractive appeal.
Maybe twenty years from now I’ll be the girl (with the turquoise eyeliner that you mistook for green) whose name has become a smudge at the back of your throat.
No use in controlling and anticipating others when you can’t even determine yourself.
If it’s what you really want, and it’s not hurting anyone else in any conceivable manner, then what does it matter what everyone else thinks?
I think that, honestly, in the end, it doesn’t matter. We’ve been plagiarizing the entirety of our lives from already verbalized ideals. There’s nothing to look forward to except for the validation of things we cling onto.
There are many ways of spelling “Stravinsky” on your phone when you’re drunk and without auto-correct. You are not yourself when you lose yourself with intention. The keypad is incapable of recollecting the smudge of a fingerprint; your alias wears gloves and spills lies with each liquor exhale. Sitting loosely around the station corner is a person with a can of coins at his feet. He’s there every day and every night with a different face. Sometimes he is a man, sometimes he is a she instead. Sometimes she is a pile of rags you sweep away from your vision. Sometimes she is a dog half-dead, half-asleep, at the feet of a man who hoards sounds from claps and shouts he makes, begging to be lost into a world where the lost are saved. They are not you, nor the person you pretend to be. Give or take a loose ten dollar bill abused in the wind, you’re going to float in this life where everyone else flies. Even the weather has a purpose, but you yourself have none. Put your coat on - it’s six pm and the wind harbors August. We’re going home.
I'm not sad, I'm tired.
I slept too much today.