Stylo-S

i dont lile myself when i'm with you. more like, i dont like who i am when im with you. nd i dont even know if i like you. i value you sure, i have affection for you, as a person i like you. but. i dont know what it means and what it says about me or you, about us. and i dont blame you, i know its all on me. i felt content when i hurt you, felt almost joy. but i cant move on from that. and the despair in your eyes. i enjoyed it even if i dont wanna see it ever again. now you know how it feels. but you dont know you made me feel this way. its okay. im okay being the bad one. do you know how full of judgement you are? its like i learn unknown facts about me, your reality of me is so unlike mine. but if you think all those things of me, do you even like me? and how? and why? i dont like the person u see. and that makes me like you even less. still, i care for you. and that's about it. wtf

pathetic to use people to define who you are, and to fall in love with urself through the eyes of someone else. what kind of narcissism... i thought that it was what straight people did. but here i am, narcisse himself. nd if my reflection shows me something i dont like, its the mirror's fault not mine.

heartbreak feels like nothing once its passed. just faint memory of pain, and it somehow looks beautiful, sounds beautiful just like violin strings being violently caressed. i know that the tears werent beautiful as they were falling from my sore eyes, the sleepless nights werent beautiful as i struggled to breath. i dont think i healed though. i can see how the scars influence how i feel, act todat, and not for the best. my heart might still be broken without me knowing but i don't feel it, i dont feel anything. oh. its shattered, not in a painfull state, but in a still one, it has been so long that pain wont stem from the distance between the shattered pieces.

animation something breaks, electic tension between the pieces that fades away.

heartbreak feels like nothing once its passed. just faint memory of pain, and it somehow looks beautiful, sounds beautiful just like violin strings being violently caressed. i know that the tears werent beautiful as they were falling from my sore eyes, the sleepless nights werent beautiful as i struggled to breath. i dont think i healed though. i can see how the scars influence how i feel, act todat, and not for the best. my heart might still be broken without me knowing but i don't feel it, i dont feel anything. oh. its shattered, not in a painfull state, but in a still one, it has been so long that pain wont stem from the distance between the shattered pieces.

animation something breaks, electic tension between the pieces that fades away.

I have never been a woman, not that I know what it is to be a woman. I have been around women my whole life, bt still I was never one of them. I cold not relate to their worries, their feelings, and behaviours. I could only observe, without understanding why they were this way. I'd observe, I'd listen, try to be a part of it. They knew I wasn't a part of it, they didn't reject me fully though, just a little bit. I don't mind being called a woman, but what people assume about me when they lay their eyes on me, is far from who I am. My desires, my believes, my thoughts do not stem from experiencing life as a woman, they are only mine. My point of view is not of a woman, barely of one that was percieved as such. I'm not a man either. I'm just soum. And gender restricts me instead of defining me.

Angering someone with just my existence is extremely satisfying. Seeing them burn from my breathing and just a few words, makes me feel powerful. It revirogates me, feeds me in a way that is unmatched. I find it funny too, their anger makes them act in a despicable manneer, and I find joy in that. I don't to anything to provoke them, or maybe just the bare minimum, still, this is enough. I hold no responsabilities, i am free. They are not.

I feel something warm on my left side, it's unsettling. I know I did this to myself, I gave them an empty shell. So of course they couldn't see anything beyond it and whatever they could fill the shell with. I'm just a projection to them. And only to me am I who I am. I didn't give them a chance, I am to blame. I had to do that though, I know, I forgive myself. This heat I feel could make me collapse.

what can I say.. It is what it is. At least someone sees me. “I don't like the person you are” said my sister. I respect her for not being blinded by the unconditional family love. I'm not either. I don't like any of them, as a person. Maybe I like her though, even if her flaws are unpossible to ignore. I understand them somehow. I understand anyone's flaws but there are some that are easier to tolerate. Hers are. It's pretty liberating to not be liked, yeah it feels like freedom, doesn't hurt one bit. I'd rather be disliked than hated, to be disliked i have to be know to some extand. “I don't like her because this and that”. Hatred is unreasonable, it feels unfair, people hate me, and their hate torments me. For the same reasons I'd rather be liked than loved, even though I might not trust someone who does, lol.

Bath thoughts 01/04/2022

Maybe my obsession with water stems mainly from my attempted drownings as a child. I'm remembered of those each time i'm submerged in water. Those times where i was so full, so overwhelmed, only water was here to fill the space between my body and the world, I wanted her to enter me so she could chase everyting I had in me. I wouldn't be left empty, but filled with water, instead of whatever was in me that I wasnt able to control, nor name. Water was real, I could see her, sense her with my body, she was violent and calm.

Before, i was obsessed with other things than water. All sort of things, items, objects, stuff, inanimate or not. For some reason I'd feel strong concections with the most random things, some sort of empathy, empathy towards myself. I was just seeing myself in all of those objects, they acted as a mirror in a way that my peers couldn't. I felt stronger connection with ghoullas (white fluffy stuff, thistle seeds) than any member of my family or friends. I remember how sensitive i was to snails, I could watch them for hours, and project everything I was onto them. I'd cry, I'd feel understood and validated. I should observe more, just like I did as a child. Now I'm reminded of Totoro, this is what being a child felt like, I was Mei, I think we all were to some extend, sensitiv to the world we perceived, playful with it instead of being afraid. It was so happy being a child but also so hard, I have no idea if it is harder now. What's difficult now, is being aware that I'm very far from my childhood, and I could never gain back the world I had. I have to live in the world I have. Inner child this, inner child that, I only have and idea of who she is, what she wants. All that i might remember about her now, are just a projection of my own desires and fears.

Back to the water, she is so warm. Is it cold in the water? Only when it is lonely. Not now. Back then. To erase this loneliness, I tried to drown myself. I never succeded. Why? A nameless fear. A child should not be afraid of death. And it wasn't death that I was afraid of, but life. Rightfully so.

I like to stare at a source of light, and then close my eyes, seeing those colored shapes in the dark, travelling from right to left and then falling. They become smaller, now it is just a dot, a star, it falls. And then appear again. I open my eyes and now i see its negativ on the wall, i could touch it, i see my hand approching, and as it gets closer, it disappears. I close my eyes again and here it is again, but I cant see my hand anymore. I like those shapes, I like sensing what is not there, I can see them. Only I. And then, I know that I am.

Why don't you ever express yourself?

I do. I do when I know that I'm being listened to, when I know that I won't be forgotten. Useless words hurt. Useless words hurt me more than silence does.

Bad company hurts me more than solitude does.

Show me that my words won't be useless. Be a friend to me.

Something about reality feels really off, right now. It's not the sight. It's the smell. The smell and the touch. The smell is sterilised. It feels as I'm not breathing. My touch doesn't. I wanna get back. I cant stay there. It's not.