violet III

I’ve finally accepted the condition of my self. My inner soliloquy has come to an end where acceptance seems to reign: I’m different. I am not better or worse than anyone. I’m just different. I’ve try to fit in to blend in, without any success. I’ve suffered from this situation of not feeling comfortable anywhere; I’ve used too many masks, getting rid of them and tired of them and I’ve been betrayed by them. Because none of them defines me. And at the same time I need something to do so, and when something does define me, I find myself fighting for breath. It was the eternal fight, where you confuse the enemy with the people that surround you, when in fact, if you look carefully, you will fin that the only enemy is inside you eating you alive. It still does sometimes, and hurts, so when it does, I try to fit in, but it just doesn’t feel right, my walking is painful and uncomfortable, my breathing is heavy, and I feel like collapsing. So, under such circumstances, and after years of struggling against myself, and trying to adapt myself to the “situation”, I have decided to give myself a big hug, and to welcome myself to my own, private and parallel world, where everyone is invited, but only a few will stay.

drop

Theinkfallsdowndropbydropstainingmyeyesmycheeksleavingnospacetobreath.

not so good

The holder of my pages
Holds more that it can tell
It holds my touches
And prevents me from crawling into
A labyrinth of thoughts
Which don’t worth a dime
It carries thousands of hums
That holder of mine.
And what to say about the white pieces
They call paper
They hold me, shivering
They distort my shrillness
And destroy every ‘Not so good, Jesica’
‘Not so good Jesica’
              the master paper whispers
I just eat my tears up.

anger

my head is beaming towards every kind of thought possible, I’m about to topple if not about to have a breakdown. I hate to be tested, I hate to sit for exams, it seems to be the only thing I have been doing for ages. Sitting for exams seems to be the only way that people will stop pressuring you. but I’m fuc..ing tired of this. The future, your future is hunged from the act of showing others how much you know about something. this is not a rigorously 30 minutes entry. today I don’t care, because I’m fed up with words and plans. baby steps suck. who actually live and give baby steps?

label,none

The beauty of the unknown is strong and yet it breaks like crystal. It is wind in the air, passes trough, never stays. The beauty of the unknown is just music to my ears; it is a violin playing in a tunnel. Strong, strong, acute, strong and acute again. The fear that emerges from the unknown is even more traumatic than a broken note, more violent than an unfinished symphony, more frightening than the idea of death. My stomach hurts, my spine hurts, my voice cries. My voice SCREAMS. My tears are nothing more than the personification of my anger. And yet, I wait. I wait for my stomach to stop hurting so much. My womb is waiting for something that will not come easily.My stomach hurts my voice cries my eyes look around and search for something to come for something to heal my aching stomach.My hands are dried my blood is boiling my veins are getting darker my womb waits my head is spinning my hair bothers me my feet do not answer my shoulders are falling asleep and I swing forward and backward forward and backward for and against good and evil black and white blonde and brunette mom and dad heaven or hell music and noise sympathy and anger sadness and joy here and there beginning and end.

The silence
Breathing
In…
and
Out…

Again…

In….
and
Out…

And so, my love’s lion comes, as his voice comes, and his heart comes; thus, the unknown is even more beautiful than yesterday. He drags me back to love and I am myself again.

free writing

Stormy nights, rainy days. Clouds like giants, would they come? I don’t know when it will be time to stop. How many things can I find within these purple thoughts? I would have to let you go? I refuse to do that. What a day. What a cold. What a need. I still have my guardian hunged on my wall. But I gave red light to my past. Wanting, wishing, to move on. Just one call, and I realise that the beautiful path of life is not for free.
So many years ago I was so alone and I was in a mess…that’s when it happened, so I opened up windows and doors, letting the light come, and the sound started. The sound of my own voice, telling me “lover, you should have come over” …getting white and gold all of the sudden….but then..purple and blue again, and I just could atrticulate “Oh G’d! can you tell me when it’s going to stop!”.

my very self in 50 words

Jesica they call me. 25 years have passed since my first cry, collecting many experiences, and more dreams to fulfil that I can count. I am like any of you, and yet different. Common and yet unique. I still believe in simple things, and that will get me through life.