Being one of the most terrible mornings, I didn't even feel my face and I felt I was dying. For now I pay the price of chaos, without the destruction and without having any origin. The mornings after this, are the reminder sessions under an insistence to never be in situations like this again - unnecessary - and conflicting, always trying to survive.
It seems that sometimes my own mind creates conspiracies that become terrorist acts, fill with falsehoods and create the common enemy, which is me. Now I know that's the trick, never to stay with the invention. For now, I abandoned any emotional expression and experience, and preferred to make sense of all the existential confusion to reach the counterpoint and reach the intended harmony, it was the only way out of an induced depression.
We are forever marked with a void, marked by the influence of those false and common enemies that have our names, by funerals that were never attended. In spite of everything, any loss leads you to atypical concepts.
At what points do you want time to pass What to give you the time or the lines of your experiences in the wrong? What is existence without the burden of instinctual infrastructure that carries us in the direction of uncertain actions? Yes, I wanted the lines and no, existence is nothing without the uncertain, so I pretended not to hate myself and also pretended some constructed truths to sustain me. I was going in inertia to nothingness, in a continuous mission to -I don't know where- with fixed feelings that didn't need congruence within reality, just a constant.
Nature itself has a sense in which it keeps itself in a continuous change, all that order keeps in equal measure a disorder, and that's how I felt. I was going from paradise to a cesspool, getting up for days, sleeping for years. I have an interlude of decisions and probable regrets, of self-deceptions and displacements that go hand in hand with a paradox of -ethics and existence- so I have taken it in a way to be an aesthetics of existence. And that death and that morning were already here.
Photography by ecka's echo
this is decontextualized for your interpretive pleasure-