"She has finally discovered the brutality is not inside of her however, there are many roses, there are altars there are stories."
i don't know which direction i am running in. some days all i want is out of this misery, other days i bury myself in it. no one wants to hurt, but how to escape it when it feels deserved and almost safe? i am scared of accepting good things in my life because good feels wrong. what would it mean to give up punishing myself, hating myself? to discover that maybe i'm not inherently wrong and broken? i don't know why that feels so sickening to think about. maybe because it would mean facing everything else, things i can't change or fix, letting it all in and letting it go.
photo: chrissie white
"Sometimes you fall, spinning through space, grasping for the things that keep you on this earth. Sometimes you catch them. They can be the hands of the people you love. They can be your pets- pups with funny names, cats with ferocious old souls. The thing that keeps you here can be your art. It can be things you have collected and invested with a certain sense of meaning. A flowered, buckled treasure chest of secrets. Shoes that make you taller and, therefore, closer to the heavens. A suit that belonged to your fairy godmother. A dress that makes you feel a little like the Goddess herself. Sometimes you keep falling; you don't catch anything. Sometimes you fall, spinning through space, grasping for the things that keep you here. Sometimes you catch them. Sometimes you don't. Sometimes they catch you."
-francesca lia block