𝙥𝙤𝙚𝙩

Love is unfound, and love cannot find me. It is unattainable. I cannot find the means to reconcile with my fate. After given birth to child I no longer want, I am doomed to be responsible. My dear remains dear. Unresolved. For the rest of my life, I am looking forward to die.

Love is unfound, and love can't find me.

Paradise doesn't exist. Paradise is a myth. nd if it did, it would be a temporary feel. Paradise is not a place. Paradise could never be. Let alone on earth. Silence is so precious yet people talk every day. So depended on needing to be understood rather than being in sync. Empathy may be a gifted might and telepathy a given tool. Systematic it has been so for centuries. Only stars and super stars get to be on screen. This reality seems to be far out of reach. In show business there may be business that is not shown which makes it a very interesting business. Almost magical.

There is no new day. Every day is the same day that keeps repeating itself. I am stuck in a pit of self pity. I would love to leave this life. Reality is a prison. Predictions about reality are temporary. Fame and fortune remain nice to attain. My personal energy is unavailable at the moment. I am convinced there is enough to do yet I don't do anything. I understand the consequences, there is no turning back, I will probably think about what I could have done for the rest of my life. Since I have been feeling stiff in my own body, it has become meaningless to dance. Fortune won't be part of my future, unfortunately. I let it happen, I am becoming furniture. Firm in a loop, in acceptance of reality. Down bad, dissapointed.

In nothingness I roam about. I fantasize about fries. French fries with a variety of sauces. There is not much else to life. Birth is meaningless in a cycle of rotation. Reincarnation seems unavoidable and sterilization is hardly spoken of. Mother's must suffer, fathers choose to be responsible or not and child free people are the most happiest of all. It doesn't make sense. Still we will remain here. Time traveling is non-existent for us, even if death occurs. There is no escape. Only room for ideas, experiments and unique life experience. The dull and numb simply repeat. Living life on repeat, no evolving and certainly no change.

It was after she told him she was pregnant her whole life changed. She regrets it every day that she didn't do an abortion. Alone in a pit, she feels betrayed. Her future belongs to someone else now. Since her present is all about raising up her son. In her experience she can't handle it by herself. Since her relationship is still long distance, she must. Coping with nostalgia, thinking of getting away. Any chance she has, she uses to get numb. She was misled and she owed it to herself. She could have chosen for celibacy. Consequences are certain yet behind a curtain between the present moment and what is next. In nine months it was revealed to her what her choice has led to. A bond she is tied to her entire lifetime. Tied to a man because of a child she didn't want in the first place. This must be how it feels, to die before you die. She is imprisoned and yet she chooses life over taking her own. Despite the tragedy of a circumstance she has to endure. Clearly she is in pain. It is the light of a new day that over shadows the painful repetition in every day. Gazing at the past has become her day to day waste. She doesn't belong to the child free women anymore. She is one of the so manieth women who birthed a child, since she doesn't consider herself a mother.

I consider myself a zombie. I considered life was meaningless once I burned out. Yet I was still alive after I gave birth to my sunshine. The struggle of becoming a mother is repetitive. Unless she cuts her ovaries beforehand or she chooses celibacy. The moments she is pregnant dictates her whole life with worry. Life is a trip and to live life child free is monumental. Living child free is walking in circles for fun while fulfilling needs. No duties, no plight to have to take care for another life. It is all about self care. Safe in thy own skin. While I had been inviting the beginning of a new life through my, I regret it ever since the birth of my child. Questioning why it is set up forever that a woman her womb has to grow life and give birth within a vague spiritual system of a scenery wherein capitalism is meaningful violence, love is considered powerful and reincarnation exists. We are energetic beings yet the plug of lust lures souls into signing a bodily contract unnecessary and women must suffer the bodily consequences. There is no sequel. It is a cycle. And unless a man loves a woman so that he is willing to let her be unbothered sexually, pregnancy will remain a trick trapping women in a bodily cage. Repeating the same movement since the entire body of a woman changes, so does her brain. And every woman's body is different still is the same difficulty every woman has to face. Unfortunately still it hasn't been considered that it is possible to abstain from sex out of love for a woman her entire self. To love by form is to love partly since love is formless. To form out of love is to risk forming the formless formula of love. Life is damaged enough and there is so much unnecessary talking. I rather leave and I am sorry I didn't stand my ground for my freedom. I layed down for the thought of love to realize I hate myself for it since love doesn't solve problems. I don't know love how I would love to know love. It is not an act of love to give birth to a child. It is the sad reality of sacrificing the possibility to live life worry free. I was bound to be a zombie. I stayed too long where I should have left where I waited too long before I could make the decision how I would remain child free while making love without protection. So naieve for a little bit of love while it is simply lust. Celibacy is possible yet repeatedly making love is the norm. Sex is so nice, somehow. Therefore I had to fail minding my own future since I didn't consider it precious enough to remain child free at all costs. Risking everything for a bond that is temporary anyway. I wanted to walk in circles for fun. Now I'm just walking in circles. Environmentally polluting and I miss my own space. I am caged and I let it happen. There is an entire separation consciously between parents and child free people. Parents are people, too but they are no longer child free. They become a zombie.

I like how an outfit can be storytelling. About where a person may be going or where a person will not be going. I appreciate the attention for one's own mood that declares to wear for oneself, not for someone else. A plight to stay true to one's own motive to wear what is convenient while moving in this world. Occasionally wearing an outfit that can move the world. Sustainable, at least. Conscious, utmost. The attention is in the details that reconcile with interests and ambitious emotion. To tell a story with an outfit. To dare being different since life is lived differently, even though there may be similarities yet clothes combined by choice make up a fragment of what is about today. It may be a working day, it may be a day off. It may be a day of traveling a lot. To ask oneself "what am I going to wear today?". And answer it accordingly. I like it.

Loss of a pink notebook. After a party partying, to notice, after I arrived home, after the afterparty the notebook was missing from my bag. Fortunately I have been learning how to love my misfortune ever since I noticed my misfortune for what it is. I'm fine with my misfortune. Maybe I wouldn't be fine if I was so fortunate to keep what I consider mine other than my misfortune. Even if I would be fortunate, unless everyone would be fortunate, I couldn't be fine with being fortunate while some people would be less fortunate. The least I can be is grateful I have written and mourn quietly.