so after posting last night’s post on “running this blog” my anxiety over all of this increased and I realized I had to change something. right now I cannot keep this blog. it’s driving me mad. I can’t live at all. my entire life is on here, and it’s the worst to spend every day thinking about how you can put this moment, this thought, into the next text-post, the next photo, the next self-expression. or even not that. just to express something. a rebellion. I don’t know. I merely know it’s driving me mad.
also because I felt as though I didn’t belong to myself anymore. that nothing of myself was mine. and that I didn’t even know who was me anymore. that everything I posted could also be a lie and I wouldn’t know.
I just know it made me very very sad. it’s intricate and I know a lot won’t understand this at all. but I kind of think that’s alright, after all it’s my choice and not yours.
so therefore, I called Leonie today and told her about it. it’s funny because Leonie is like the least internet-y person I know. she always knew this blog would do harm to me and she was right.
so for now she’s going to change my password and I won’t be posting anything on tumblr for a while until I found a space in mind that tells me how to go on. maybe I’ll come back some time, maybe it will also be some time soon, maybe in two weeks, maybe in a few months, or a year, and start to post more organized things, or post just my photos, or anything.
maybe I’ll never come back. just know that I’ll maybe be writing, taking photos, but what is definite is that for now I just cannot stand this blog anymore.
so yeah, thanks to all of you for these three years. it’s so silly, but I definitely know that I’d be oh so very different if I hadn’t had this blog, had shared myself everyday, open to all your words, harsh and lovely, all of that. thank you, really. even though you never intended to do anything.
tomorrow will be different!!!! i know it!!!! i can totally change within one day!!!! even though i spent all day except the last two hours gone from the computer it still makes me feel bad!!! the computer makes me feel so empty!!!! what is staring into a screen anyway!!!! i want to read and write and live and not just type on a weird thing that was made out of finite resources!!!
when I started, I wanted it to be a secret. I wanted it to be my personal thing, smoking, making the moment all dreamy. cigarettes were and still are a really aesthetic thing to me, the beauty of it always made me happier. it still does. but by now I’ve also gotten addicted, apparently, so I smoke more than I should. sometimes I don’t even enjoy it anymore.
but the reason why I started, this beauty of the moment .. I always thought a cigarette improves sitting in a cafe drinking coffee; sitting at night watching the stars; dancing in a club … cigarettes have something about them.
I took a small walk to fetch cigarettes a few minutes ago after having spent quite some time tonight on the computer, specifically browsing the internet. And strangely for the first time, I considered something that I had never considered before; in fact it occurred to me out of nowhere. Maybe it is linked with thinking about being idolized on the internet. Maybe it actually comes from there. The thing is, running this blog is so strange. Speaking so openly about every little detail, ever shift of moods, every person I meet, all these opinions and thoughts, being so bloodily truthful about my person, all that has such a strange impact on my life and I never realized that. I mean, it’s been this way for me for two or three years, to be precise ever since I started to question things and think about them. Ever since growing up, so to say. And I am having a hard time trying to explain this because it always seemed normal to me, when in fact it Is surely something not too many people have. I think everyone reading this now, or reading my blog in general, should know that you are always present in my mind. Not you as an individual, but you in a crowd of people. I think I’ve gotten over the attention-whoring-aspect of blogging. I truly do. By now it is a thing of honesty, of having an outlet to be bloody honest and that isn’t linked with any consequences yet still affects other people. But so many times a day, say I have a nice thought or something happens, I think “oh I will blog about this to-night.” And then I think about what people will think about it. what they might think about it. Not that that would change anything about me or my thought or my happening. But I wonder still. And I reflect in the name of all these opinions. Literally, a lot of my self-reflection is linked with what people wrote to me on the internet. Then also, it’s always as though there is a reward for my nice thoughts. In a way it’s harmful. Say I have two thoughts and I write about both of them, and both are equally important to me because they are my thoughts, and the internet reacts to one of them. Surely I could be saying “Oh it’s just the internet”, but that’s the point; it’s gotten a too great part of my life to “just be the internet”. Fuck, you all know most of my secrets and anxieties, how could I just wipe that off? It’s not that I ache for any of you; but I care. This is me, this is my artwork, and I want it to be the most realistic I can. That was always my dream, my attempt, to create a blog that reflects me as a person entirely. I’d always think; oh what a foolish thought. I will post this on my tumblr. I want the world to know that I have foolish thoughts too. I want the world to know that I am not the idolized little boy they make me.
no, this doesn’t bother me. in fact, it made me think of the exact same thing. all i want is this romanticized image that i have of love, this ideal that i’ll never ever get to. i want long walks holding hands, laughter in front of canvases in an art-museum, black coffee with books and green tea with secrets, and damp eyes beneath the sheets in the morning and subtle bare feet tiptoeing over the parquet to wake no one up. cigarettes smoked on the balcony, kisses below the stars, sex, naked bodies ..
oh dear, I once wrote a text about being a hopeless romantic. and that was a year ago and it still applies to my life. I thought I’d changed ever since, but obviously I haven’t aha I just got worse in what I already am hahaha in a way this makes me feel lonely, but I am not lonely. and this is not unachievable, in fact, the list above is a glimpse into the collection of “memories of love and relationships” that I have. so it is kind of realistic, isn’t it? but it’s nothing one should totally go after, you know, leonie and I always joke about how nothing happens when you expect it and only happens when you don’t. because it’s true.
and also, I see the intention behind this message and I think it is very sweet and lovely of you, and thank you, but I just do want to say that you should keep in mind to not completely idolize me because I’m probably not even the way this blog makes me seem and you’d just be disappointed if you met me!!! so keep in mind that I am a human being and that I do all the things everyone else does. cheers. xx
remorse is such a dreadful folly, I cannot help it today. this is the third time in a week that I fell in love with a stranger.
when I went to bed last night I created in my head the plan of today. as it was the first day in weeks where I had no obligations whatsoever, I settled for the idea of doing my monday-walk through the city as though it was just any other week and school was still on. I don’t know, I always go to the library on mondays for instance. or I wander around the park and sit at the same spot and gaze at the people passing by below on the walk. and I know that certain things will happen, and every time I expect for the former things to be, but it’s never the same, never the same plot, and I find this to be so strange. I mean, I thought today about how I’d meet someone around art-academy, ask them for a photo, go for a coffee, fall in love, live happily ever after. it damps on me that I romanticize the city as an opportunity to live the life of literature.
I didn’t meet anyone around art-academy. I went to the library as I had planned, and at the racks of cds there he was. I just realized he was there when I was already looking for an Oasis album. he had a guitar case on his back and was wearing a black necklace with a little object on it. his hair was brown and thin and he had also a thin and fragile face, but his eyes were nothing like that. his eyes seemed to be so full of content and peace, and something about him made me feel as though he’d have the most soft-spoken voice I’d ever hear.
I actually knew his face. he takes the same tram with me every morning. I wonder why I never looked into it clearly. maybe in the morning-time I don’t stare as much.
we were playing this game of acting-as-though-you-didn’t-notice-the-other-one-even-though-you-are-standing-two-feet-away-from-each-other. or at least I was. I always am. it’s so strange, I get so excited around interesting people. it’s like a storm in my head. like a battle. I never know what holds me back. I was so close to picking the “broken bells” album out of the racks and hand it to him and just say “you should give this a listen, there is a song on it that is called october and it is october and that kind of really can brighten up your mood.”
and we made eye-contact for a moment when he almost accidentally ran into me and I know he knows me.
and he knows I know him.
but I don’t know how to feel about this.
all day I put my heart in the hands of strangers, but remained stable still. I feel unsettled but satisfied. what is it about people that makes me wander around the city for six hours just looking at faces? and not even get bored a bit?
I think I’m obsessed.
I keep telling everyone about this feeling I have … I firstly told Rosa about it when we were in London, and today with Jackson I remembered it again.
you know, I always imagine it as though I was in this forest, somewhere, someplace, dark and lonely and in anguish. and by far, there was no place I could turn to. sometimes it was as harmful, sometimes it wasn’t as dark, but still I was lost for all this time.
and by now I kind of have found a house within this forest and it’s some sort of foundation. and this house is so wonderful, so warm, so welcoming … and of course I have to leave it every now and then, or I am forced to leave it, but I know I’ll always return.
that is how I am happy. I figured that, apart from attacks, sadness, anxieties, which become rarer and rarer with every week lately, my life at the moment is great. I am full of inspiration, motivation, surrounded by beautiful people, have lived my seventeen years so excessively and I just keep on pushing and running and being who I truly want to be.
and I am just very happy today, and a lot in general lately … I haven’t felt this sort of happiness in years. and you know why? I always believed there was a right way to be. but by now I’m slowly coming to realization that there is no wrong nor right and I think that is the most heart-warming thing to think of.