widowescu

I feel very out of place, always have, this isn’t a unique point of view to be honest. It just is. I just happen to exist in this state of being where nothing I do ever makes me feel more fitted in or suitable for the lived experience of earth. I want to be something less and something more at the same time. Trying things to keep myself occupied and bothered by the way things happen. But it has…

Medium/size: pen & black ink, pencil, watercolor and bodycolor (gouache), heightened with gold, on paper; ~60 × 88 cm. Signed “G. Janny – Wien/1918”; verso inscribed with the moral: “Das Gute & das Böse” (“Good & Evil”). Provenance includes Sotheby’s London, 24 Nov 1988, lot 708. Artist background: Austrian painter and stage designer trained/worked in the famed Brioschi–Kautsky studios; he moved…

What happens when a dream becomes too powerful, so powerful that it bleeds into waking life and reshapes reality itself? Not the dreams of individuals, but the dreams of societies, cultures, and entire civilizations. We live in a time where collective imagination often tilts toward despair, suspicion, and catastrophe. Wars spread like wildfires, economies wobble, artificial intelligence feeds…

Alexei leaves me with the impression of that martyr-friend we all know: someone naixve in his holiness, who perhaps should have been a monk, a saint, or at least a man set apart from the world. His essence reminds me of the archetype bound to the life path number 1. Kabbalah, the mystical tradition of Judaism, begins with the search for unity, the attempt to gather all fragments of life back…

Detalii tehnice și context Titlu: Jesus Ministered to by Angels / Jésus assisté par les anges Artist: James Jacques Joseph Tissot (cunoscut ca James Tissot) Dată: între 1886–1894 Medii: acuarelă opacă (gouache) peste grafit, pe hârtie cenușie Dimensiuni: 17 × 24,8 cm (6 11/16 × 9 3/4 in.) Localizare: Brooklyn Museum, New York – achiziționată prin subscripție publică în 1900 Descriere și…

cuvintele astea pe care nu le mai găsesc, al cărui sens nu îl mai înțeleg, mă caută ele pe mine eu tac și zac sunt ca un mort, ceva cadavru, un dans macabru în orice caz necomestibil pe tine nu te mai văd, tot ce am așteptat în capul meu, creat cu greu cu grijă cu cântec și descântec vrăji și poțiuni cuvinte și rușini ascunsă după deget pot să te găsesc. acum al meu calvar nu îl voi…

to simply drift away into not being, a body, not anymore. Not at all. I could then probably express some sort of buried sadness something that even I have forgotten, by the time you realize all my mistakes I will already be gone Be something else, erased. So you have nothing to be held against me. Just and maybe becomes something I don’t have to deal with, something that might be yours…

se pare că drumurile toate ne-au adus într-un soi de împreunare. ceva ce putem diseca, rumega, undeva pe planeta asta unde analiza de sine este statornică în sine își alină rănile își plânge morții și noi facem mai multe decât să privim. undeva aici aproape există cu siguranță ceva mai bun pentru mine, pentru că altfel ce rost ar avea toate cele dureroase. – it seems that all the…

I feel like there is always this blockage between me and my own self expression. Like the words keep slipping away in between my fingers whenever I sit down, seriously, with the intention of writing. So to start I was thinking that there would be no other better way than to talk about this barrier. This unspoken bridge between me and my own creativity. Started writing in notebooks, lots of…

i have nothing left to say, the meds are taking out of me any sort of brain power left. I think about things I try to speak them but I can’t so what’s the point anymore. I’m in a frozen suspended paused state. Wish it wasn’t I am so tired off all these meds and therapists.

I can write anything because this is my annoying safe space, productivity free zone, while in theory I am being productive for putting content out there in a way. But that doesn’t matter is slop content. maybe. My brain is a bit fuzzy from the meds, ngl. If i will read this in the future. I hope I will be fine, in a place that I feel good about myself, right now it’s a bit hard. I dissociate a…

I’m not sure what I believe in but if reincarnation is real this feels very dragged on. I want no more. Metempsychosis Rebirth in the Same Body Renovatio Rebirth as a Child Mystical Participation in the Process of Transformation identifying with archetypes like the dying god.

For doing stuff, maybe it’s the meds that are making me so neutral. So lacking in any ideas for myself, what I can create for myself moving forward. I used to attach myself to anything interesting to give me meaning, creative meaning. Creative output. Sharing it. Now it feels like I do it better, at a greater scale on different mediums but me, it feels empty. I give myself time, grace and…

I’m in a weird spot in life right now, I feel like everything that makes up identity it’s gone in my case. I feel like nothing defines me anymore. Like everything I’ve been through has taken away all that for me. Like it’s a bad thing to get too immersed in life. One step foward must be neutral somehow. I must keep my distance, be detached, not get fooled. But that leaves me with what? I sit on…

about the future about the present about the past, constant. anxiety. like this inner turmoil nothing seems to calm down, I have no place in this world. nothing that makes me fit or feel happy. now I have to choose between going back to study or going to find a job maybe, or some gigs. it’s silly and I don’t want to think about it but I need to. like no matter what I do there is this infinite…

I have to look back at what I wrote few years ago, and all I can think of is the manic state I must’ve been in back then. How me writing was the only output that could calm me down, I remember fragments of what was going on (aggressively) inside my mind. How mania can affect things. Alter states of mind. Now I feel almost too normal, I’m also on meds to keep it that way. And last night I had a…

funny how now I’m writing from the exactly same spot I last wrote before abandoning this whole project. I’ve changed a lot, lot’s of things actually changed. Can say I’ve destroyed myself in many ways. Mentally I’ve merged with some weird concepts lately that kinda are hard to distinguish from what’s real and what’s not. I’m having fun, sort of with all this but yeah I can feel in how I write…