child of nostalgia

Breaking away the union. Pausing the song. You are too young, I've seen a lot.

Pulled away to sleep And dream of you. Hope for ones, so deep. I am new.

I am born again, Clean and empty. Prepare my feet to step. I am hefty.

Gratitude and melancholy, My old life is over. I am a photocopy, A three-leaves clover.

I used to doubt whether someone secretly hated me, and because of that, I would get mad at that person for the possibility that they hated me and I wasn’t aware of it. The worst part is that I was conscious of how irrational it all was, but I couldn’t stop feeling anger and rejection toward the person.

I also used to force myself to think about horrible situations that I knew would make me uncomfortable. When my grandmother passed away, I forced myself to imagine her body being torn apart and all kinds of terrible things happening to her. It felt like torture. That was the most intense part, and the milder version was, for example, telling myself, 'Every time you go into the bathroom and see this object, you will think of X thing.' Then I started doing a ritual to undo/cancel actions that I felt I had to do.

As a child, I was quite a hoarder, I couldn’t even throw away a candy wrapper because I obsessed over the thought that I would 'never see it again' if I threw it away, or 'poor wrapper… it will be all alone.' Over time, I even started picking up papers I found on the street, pencils at school, a paperclip, anything I saw lying around. I felt like I just couldn’t leave it there. I felt sorry for it, and if I didn’t take it, I knew I’d think about it all day. That’s why I created my ritual of tapping my leg three times, it allowed me to cancel whatever my mind was telling me to do.

I also remember imagining that the paper on the street was happy being there and didn’t want to be picked up, and that sometimes calmed me down. Same thing when throwing away clothes, I had to convince myself that the item was happy to leave my house. If I felt like I was abandoning it, I simply couldn’t throw it away because I wouldn’t be able to handle the guilt. It was crazy. As a child, I felt deep distress when my parents changed the furniture or when I found out they had thrown something away. If something broke, I would even keep the pieces.

Something that may have triggered this was that my mom threw away everything. She did whatever she wanted with my stuff. I didn’t trust her, I would ask her to leave something where it was, and she wouldn’t. To this day, I don’t know why she does that, but if she sees a piece of paper or something she thinks is useless, she throws it away. She threw away things that were important to me, maybe notes that she didn’t even know the meaning of. The worst part is that she wouldn’t take responsibility for it, so I never knew for sure if she had thrown it away or if I just couldn’t find it.

I started checking the trash every night because I knew I would find my things there. And when I asked her why she had thrown something away, she would say she didn’t do it, never taking responsibility. It was so frustrating not being able to make her understand something as simple as 'don’t touch my stuff.' She still does it, though on a smaller scale.

there's this uncomfortable sensation I have when I close my eyes, usually to go to sleep, that makes me see something I was able to notice is the same thing I used to see when I was a kid, in a fever delirium. back then, I used to relate it to a demon that was looking straight at me and pointing at me, over and over again with its fingers, and that repetition would produce such a fear in me that I couldn't sleep. it was, and is, a sensation very hard for me to explain, but I guess it could be compared to a bad trip on some drug.

this stinging repetition (the demon's fingers pointing at me at that time) I feel it today as a beating mass in my brain. it beats so fast and makes such abrupt movements that it throws me off balance. it's similar to watching a 1-second video over and over again and feeling that discomfort, the noise, the sound repeating again and again and you just want it to stop.

after a few moments it stops, and nowadays I know everything's mental so, I'm not as afraid of this sensation as I was before. when I was a kid I really thought it was a demon. anyway I still wonder what this is and I still try to find the way to describe it.

I ask X (twitter) AI to make some drawings of what I see. I said: "a big, wide mass, beating fast". I think these are the best, but they're still not that accurate. I'll keep trying to figure out how to describe what I feel and see with words.

I miss the innocence of the child, the curiosity and the question without the answer, I miss not knowing the answer. today, I feel the answer disappoints; gives an end; turns off the magic.

I miss not knowing how big is this city, I miss not knowing in which neighborhood are located the places where I used to stroll to with my family. I miss not knowing where I am, not knowing who I am. I miss not understanding a lot of what I do nowadays. I miss being ignorant about what was coming and not caring about it.

that's what I miss the most, for me that was the most beautiful thing about living, what made me feel alive alongside music and art. and I think I'll never get that back.

is anybody here?

if you're reading this you probably used to follow a cute blog called cutepalefeelings (lol), I used to post pictures of joanna kuchta, charlie barker and elizabeth bishop a lot (those were the it girls here back in 2014-2015), I really fucking miss those times! I still, obviously, listen to The Neighbourhood and Melanie Martinez, I think I'm stuck forever in here, so I decided I'll use this blog, now I'm 24 so I have a life! maybe I can post stuff about myself, but I can't help but fangirl, I will never stop fangirling. a devon carlson icon will always look better than one of my own, but hey, let's try to find myself pretty. I'm so stupid I deleted all my posts once and now I regret it. But who knows! maybe I'll find myself posting joanna kuchta pics again. tumblr feels like home. idk

hey stupid face reveal... and why not the iconic the nbhd tattoo. I'm so proud of having this one on my skin. I'll always love the nbhd. lol