"We have modernized yet regressed into animals. We are the least human we have ever been in a long time." -Drusilla Ugolini, 2025
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One Day You'll Become A Beautiful Bouquet. |
Entry 1.
You Are Your Own Prison
07/16/25
Monochromic soundtrack of life.
Black and white corridors of my thoughts.
I can’t latch onto one idea, how disloyal I am to myself.
One day: bursting with laughter like a maddened woman running through the streets, finally freed from the chains of society.
The next: silently seeking to fit the ideal mold, crushing myself - inside and out - for failing the expectations of others.
Morbid darkened storms in my thoughts.
Then a white gleaming, pure horizon.
How do I escape this sudden pull from black to white?
White to black?
I’m not even given time to recover, to process.
Can my own head spare me?
Can it grant me mercy?
.
.
.
Return my senses to me.
Some days I only feel colors - I don’t see them.
I feel red.
I taste yellow.
Yellow melts delicately on my tongue,
while blue crashes over my fragile body,
knocking a wild gust into me – leaving me petrified.
Shaking. Trembling.
Holding myself desperately for stability.
You might ask: what color do I feel lately?
Seems nowadays I am blue.
Not in a calm, serene, peaceful way.
But rather in the shaking, unstable, edge of collapse sort of way.
I just am.
Do you pity me for it?
I need to feel something to be someone.
Adrenaline.
That’s why I seek to feel alive.
Without it, I am nothing, nobody, a blank undesirable slate of emptiness.
My mind...
Carefully, distrustfully, paranoidly: leads me down the rightful path as my chest thrashes violently and defiantly; lets out a shrill scream to go down the wrong path.
Not demandingly so.
Begging.
The right path is like the ashy residue of a used cigarette.
The wrong one burns like the end of a lit one.
It burns.
Pridefully glowing redder and redder as it sears me.
As my skin is scorched by the dim flame, my heart ignites with life.
It’s real, raw, and fucking warms me.
Still, like a sheep, I take the right path.
After all,
My mind owns me.
My mind. Owns me.
Owns everything.
All of me.
My mouth. My hands. My silence.
It doesn’t live inside me, it swallows me fucking whole.
It owns the way I try.
He only fails to own the way I cry.
My emotions always tip over.
Flooding. Cracking open the bones. Breaking free from the cage.
He can never control that.
Though sometimes I wish he could…
As if I were the scapegoat of a family: he scolds me, corrects me, and takes punitive action for my every move he deems “wrong”.
It’s like Pavlov’s Dog: I am trained to be a sheep. Constantly.
I was taught to grow into a spineless coward, always longing for more, and never quite being enough.
HAHAHA!
My mind consumes me, twists my outsides inward, ravages my free-will.
I have become so hollow outwardly, only my ribcage sees my heart.
I’m not allowed to wear my heart on my sleeve.
My mind will be the death of my soul.
I’m killing my spirit because of him.
How do I toss my brain into a cabinet, leave him for a good hour, and expose my soul for everyone to gawk at?
I’ll zip open my chest and reveal my ribcage which encages my throbbing, bleeding, rotten heart. Humongous, spilling out of the bones.
It’s so cramped in there for her,
She's far too big for her own home.
Like an overgrown child.
She belongs somewhere where she doesn’t feel right.
She’s a vast ocean, waiting to become a tsunami and destroy everything. Happily doing so.
Remember?
You destroy everything.
Don't play the fool.
On a lighter note:
I have Philosophy class, we’re learning about logic.
How funny it is since logic has failed me time and time again.
Deciphering my brain is troubling.
It’s like finding the end to one thin thread of red in one giant mansion-sized ball of yarn, entering a strange catacomb of multi-colored yarn.
I’m so lost in this circus of a place.
Fucking shit show.
Some parts you can marvel at in wonder - other areas you’d feel sick at the sight, ready to purge what you’ve witnessed, and gouge your eyes out.
That’s what my brain feels like.
Would you like to see the inner clockwork of my brain?
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