switch off

I’m 26 today and I’m really broken.
I’m 26 and I don’t think I’ve ever been hurt so much, so badly.
Yes, I’ve been hurt, offended, heartbroken before; and it was hard and sometimes it lasted very very long until I could live fully again. But now it’s much worse. It’s final and it’s blowing up my whole existence and my wish to continue here this life.
I’m 26 and I’m as grounded, as stable and as sure as ever. Sure of what I want and who I want to be. And I was joyful, I experienced the most profound and suprised happiness. I know how that is. But now it’s all broken and I’m grounded but devastated.
Abused. Mistreated.
And I feel all alone against this. Me and the disappointment. Me and the anger. Me and the egoism.
I’m 26 and it’s been a few birthdays now without any presents.
I’m 26 today and I’m beautiful. I know I’m amazing and worthy, and just need to be picked up. In the right way.

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Maybe men don’t fall in love.
It’s all a lie of movies and songs. Probably I’ve never met a man who was in love, or talked about love for real. I don’t like generalizations and I thought some were different, but apparently not: men are not able to get attached, build connections, enjoy the idea of committing to something or someone and let that grow; they only follow raw instincts and use whoever they seem to need at the moment. Completely unable to feel a connection and care for another person, who becomes important and central and precious. Until that moment is gone. Their selfish needs always come first and are the only things that matter. Lonely wolves, who can only create distance and through that distance connect to the world.
I’m a bit disillusioned. Or maybe I really do have a deep and special way of loving.

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A chaos in my head. I lose it. I lose my patience when my choreographer is vague and doesn’t want to take decisions and she rather wants to leave us alone to make the piece work. I fall asleep watching a dance show. I lose kindness with my host, he’s so weird and rigid, pedantic, oppressive. I wanna go home. So hard to organize and make things work in sweden from here far away. So many chores troubles efforts messages. Can’t wait to be back. I lose confidence when I go for dinner with a famous choreographer and his dancers and he remembers me and knows exactly who I am. Then I get shy. And when I see all his dancers and their physical shape and the cool fun dancing that they do (and I haven’t done anymore since school) and I wished I was in such projects, too. I walk home at 1am in a heavy snowfall and it’s all foggy and so beautiful and a bit apocalyptical and snowflakes fall into my mouth. I lose control on saving and treat myself with a coffee and a cake, but hell yeah, I’m sad. I ended up in a cafe where the youngest person is above 40, how’s that? I did not want to eat more sugar but I am. I almost pass out after taking a hot bath, I’m dizzy and see little stars and must lay down so naked on the bathroom floor of a house that is not mine. My back is in pain. My body, in fact. So tired. Eventually this piece became physically intense, and I like that; but intense in a different way, since we do not dance a lot, rather from holding positions, moving very slow, pushing the muscle tone. In my home I want a table like this one in the cafe, thick old wood and different chairs. I read feminist empowering books and my chest inflates. Maybe it could snow now. Then I talk on the phone with a nice friend and as usual after we’re done I cry and I cry because he activates me and I can feel what I had been filtering out. And then also through the phone things precipitate and it’s him and it all hits me with a strong blow, and it’s unfair, it’s ungrateful, it’s asking way too much and giving all for lost. I’m hurt, he’s horrible and I face lies. Though I love him and I can’t live without him. I do not want to live without him. I thought he was smart wise caring in a special and rare way.  I believe a lot in us as wonderful wise people with insight. However sad annoyed hurt disturbed scared, I still have a high appreciation of him and I hope he does of me as well.
I’m sad and nobody knows. Obviously people around me act as if nothing happened. And I’d like them to know that I carry this sadness with me everywhere. I’d like to hear “how are you?” and answer “I’m so damned sad” but I also don’t want to say it because I don’t want to explain, I don’t want to tell, I don’t want their compassion and comforting.

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bau bau

WanJin-Gim-2I felt a rush of empathetic curiosity about the lives of the unfamous, the unrecorded desires and ambitions of artists who had been here too. What’s the ratio of working artists to the sum total of art stars?

 I hate classes before rehersals where I have to spend time and energy on things that are so extremely unrelated to the work, useless and unimportant. In general it’s just not interesting.
I get really annoyed with teachers giving improvisation classes with vague tasks that mean nothing, and then they themselves drop out first, because it all makes no sense. And then dancers just swing themselves around with floppy limbs, feeling “so free”. Really.
Why do I always end up in these kinds of projects? It frustrates me and it’s hard to keep hoping that there’s more to come, more than underdogs.

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I look at myself in the mirror while showering and I like what I see.
I look quite in shape. And I look like a 25-almost-26-years-old woman, not the usual little girl (at least without clothes on).

Schermata 2017-11-13 alle 19.53.35


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un cero

Schermata 2018-01-09 alle 18.41.17At night I can’t fall asleep. Too many thoughts too many sounds too much light. And I think of him and I cannot sleep. I miss him. And I think of sex and all I’d do to him. Then I really cannot fall asleep.

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blauer vogel

A shiatsu treatment in Vienna made me reflect on some things. That maybe things are not as I imagined them, and I have to accept that and readapt to the new situation, but I should not give up on my wishes and plans. I can always keep on working towards them, or at least express them. That blocking feelings is a defence strategy. I don’t know how she did but she did unblock lots of channels and I cried and cried (when I left I couldn’t even go down one floor of stairs that I had to sit down and let out the stream of sobbing and crying). It felt good. And then I got very ill. Sebastien-Zanella-6
And, said by her in strong wienerisch, des geht ned, me and him cannot stay for two and a half months without seeing each other and we must promise that we’ll do something about it. In the middle of all the crying I suddenly knew very clearly: I fucking miss him; and I must tell him.




For three weeks I’d been bursting into tears so often it became a phenomenological question: at what point should we still say “crying” or instead describe the moments of “not-crying” as punctuation marks in a constant state of tears?

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