I knew something was wrong with me but I just didn't know what.
I never thought that peace would be so important for me.
I told him, "No, I don't want money, I don't want career, I don't want to be anything. I just, deep down, I know I just need a peace of mind."
Thursday, September 13, 2018
Monday, September 3, 2018
Manic Episode
Sure, I do remember those days when I set my schedule very perfectly and life was happening according to plan. I liked (maybe deep down inside I still do) doing so much things. I just, fucking oh god, I fucking like to think. You know? Just like a clock ticking, everything is being fast-forwarded in my head. This and that, here and there, run in flats, heels, loafers, sneakers, do things and more things made me feel so. fucking. alive. Energy, Inspiration, and the feeling of being inspired, are like crazily having threesome sex in my head. Everything has been exciting. Everyone has been so nice, everything mattered. Life, Art, Literature, Smile, the vastly dynamic world, the earth, and planets, and fucking Plato! Stars and Sky, limitless above. Dreams and wise endings aloft in the silent nights.
Depressive Episode
Things changed within me, though. Every time I look at myself in the mirror, I feel like she's asking, "Who are you?" "What are you doing here?" "Where are you gonna go now?". And my eyes looked at me, so so so differently, full of pity and regrets, and desperation. Looking back, I was that girl who loved to visit public events, trying to hang out with those hot af male models while wearing that tacky outfit from New Look. I was that girl, who tried to learn so many languages, and that girl who wrote stuff with the utmost bravery. Now I see, a fat-gaining coward who keeps on making the same old, real same old fallacies, and who forgets to reply others' messages. Now I look at myself in the mirror, and I feel like I am looking at someone else, full of fatigue, doubts, more doubts.
Am I experiencing that so-called second puberty?
Sure, I do remember those days when I set my schedule very perfectly and life was happening according to plan. I liked (maybe deep down inside I still do) doing so much things. I just, fucking oh god, I fucking like to think. You know? Just like a clock ticking, everything is being fast-forwarded in my head. This and that, here and there, run in flats, heels, loafers, sneakers, do things and more things made me feel so. fucking. alive. Energy, Inspiration, and the feeling of being inspired, are like crazily having threesome sex in my head. Everything has been exciting. Everyone has been so nice, everything mattered. Life, Art, Literature, Smile, the vastly dynamic world, the earth, and planets, and fucking Plato! Stars and Sky, limitless above. Dreams and wise endings aloft in the silent nights.
Depressive Episode
Things changed within me, though. Every time I look at myself in the mirror, I feel like she's asking, "Who are you?" "What are you doing here?" "Where are you gonna go now?". And my eyes looked at me, so so so differently, full of pity and regrets, and desperation. Looking back, I was that girl who loved to visit public events, trying to hang out with those hot af male models while wearing that tacky outfit from New Look. I was that girl, who tried to learn so many languages, and that girl who wrote stuff with the utmost bravery. Now I see, a fat-gaining coward who keeps on making the same old, real same old fallacies, and who forgets to reply others' messages. Now I look at myself in the mirror, and I feel like I am looking at someone else, full of fatigue, doubts, more doubts.
Am I experiencing that so-called second puberty?