I haven’t written
in quite some time and have generally used this account at least; as an outlet to express some kind of grief. Except only visually and occasionally to some bass-y track I didn’t create.
Yes, I’ve just been collecting images. I scan through them and never ask myself “why’d I post that?” Only pictures I doubt are those of myself. Figuring that I have no problem exposing the images in my head; but those of my own physical appearance, those are much more scary than an open corpse to me.
I don’t know where i’m going with this but I need to think out loud right now and know that someone will read it somewhere.
That is a natural urge all visionaries or “artists” experience. The need to express. Yet I don’t consider myself an artist at all, I currently create no art. Though I do envision many many things throughout the course of my days.
I believe my point initially was that I don’t believe in the pictures of myself. Especially my most recent ones. Which is why posting what I had earlier today, well yesterday really, just didn’t sit well with me. I have no idea who that is. She looks very fucking happy though.
I don’t feel this is disassociation. I’m not sitting in the corner of the room watching myself move about my apartment from a third person perspective. No it is not that mental. But that girl in all the blush, gripping her cup, is just coping.
Coping with the loss of something great… Herself.
-A