Leontia

Leo*

Aesthetically, you are vintage, stars, symmetry, polaroids, vanilla, willow trees and high ceiling

*http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/04/03/tumblr-on-astrology_n_6985066.html?utm_source=yourtango.com&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=pubexchange_facebook

Introdutivo

Alejandra Acosta - ilustradora

Thyrableu

And all over again

"I have been afraid since before I knew what it was to be afraid, before I knew there was any danger. I feel the fear not in my head but in my very self, cracking and thrashing against the part of me that knows how to be a person at all. I feel it before I know I am feeling it, hissing there in the soles of my feet, shouting at me from the pain in my knees, from the weakness in my hands, from the tingling in my jaw. It lurches from my throat like a wave of black tar and I choke on it and the world caves in around me and I am drowning.

And it is always so final, the panic. Every time I feel it, it could be the last feeling I have. The most acute and insurmountable feelings anyone has ever felt. A face-to-face meeting with mortality, every time. I can’t breathe. My throat has closed. I’m going blind.

I will die, I will die.

So far, I haven’t died once. And I can try to rationalise the panic by remembering that: “I’ve felt exactly like this before and I didn’t die.” Except that maybe this is the time. Maybe all of the panicking I’ve done in the past has given me a stomach ulcer and now I’m bleeding internally and this time I’m going to die for real.

I have generalised anxiety disorder. 

The anxiety disorder exists separately from my personality. Anna the Person is tough and smart and honest. None of these things about me are rendered untrue because of my anxiety, it’s just that sometimes, someone throws a heavy blanket over them. I am tough, but I can’t get to the shops today. I am smart, but I think that if I go outside I will float away into the atmosphere. I am honest, but my brain is lying to me.

Chronic anxiety is miserable. There’s the waiting: will I panic? when? will it be as bad as last time? will I be safe? can I get out? It is often co-morbid with depression:I can’t do this forever, I just want it to stop, I want to be normal, I want to stop worrying, maybe I should just drive into the ocean. It seems relentless. Years of relentless, agonising fear.

We’re chronic anxiety people. Our anxiety has been treated and it hasn’t gone away. Sometimes it bores the people around us. It definitely bores us. God, it’s boring. So we push forward in spite of our very boring fear. We climb out of bed every (OK, most) days and we exist in the world inside a fog, and some days the fog is light and it blows away for a while, and some days the fog is thick and it rolls in around us and we suffocate. 

People don’t make ad campaigns for us. Our anxiety is not so easily classified. Our symptoms aren’t always identifiable. When I’m at my most anxious, I look right into the face of the man I love and I can’t remember who he is. How do you put that in a mood-lit commercial? I am insane, I am crazy, I am the only one who feels this way.

I’m not. I’m just a person with an anxiety disorder. There are millions of us, out there in the world. We carry our anxiety with us like a colostomy bag, filling it with fear, emptying it into the quiet corners where we sit and we breathe. Sometimes, we find pockets of peace.

I will die, I will die.

But not from this."

Anna Spargo-Ryan

the guardian

Poebsy

Who am I?

I am a practicing human being.

A spirit in recovery, discovery, discography, biography.

Topography of a soul in a scar tissue

And holes in a bird cage crannies.

And these hips - are my grannies. 

And these lips speak the sanity of all the wisdom I know,

but don't always practice,in my fear of imperfection, 

of rejection to dejection...

The deflection of a dream for the comfort of ice-cream

and a hope for a serene life, clean life.

Always kind and never mean life, never wrong and only right life.

Light life... Bite life!

And the juice runs down my chin.

Grin! Spin! Win... and never lose life! 

Choose life! 

How can I refuse the blacks and blues 

and palette I am giving to be living what I paid with my pain.

Not refraining when it's raining to experience the wet.

I forget that the only thing to fear is the comfort that would 

steer me into hiding what is dear.

Let me hear in every moment that the comfort of a home

when I had home within my heart, within my art...

Let me start again to follow, from the merrow and the hollows,

the still, small infinity, divinity resounding... love, abounding! 

Every sounding harmony, disarming me at every smile I charmingly project

to deflect the defective me, protective me.

The best of me, authentically, is only what I choose to free.

Amy Walker, Who am I?

Jaktosięstało

Herbata była naprawdę pyszna. Słodycz, prawdziwy aromat malin, ale czekałam tylko kiedy się zerwać od tego milczenia. Nie ten lokal, więc dobrze - gdzieś gdzie jest bezpieczniej. W końcu zrywam się ruchomymi schodami w dół, gubię szalik i muszę wrócić niepotulna, zgarbiona do góry jak wrona, zesztywniały gołąb. A więc jest i prezent, ale przecież teraz nie mogę. Tylko wstyd, opuchlizna gdzieś w duszy od płaczu za nie wiem.

Przepraszasz przepraszam zależy i pojebanie, gdzieś tamten leczy rozdrapany wczorajszy policzek.

Ściana znów gotowa mnie przytulić, do strachu, do soli.

Retrograde

Seksu z tego nie będzie, ale i otchłani nie należy od razu analizować.

Ćwiczyć na chceniu bycia chcianą, bo wszystko tylko DLA SŁÓW.

Już po dniu można zapomnieć o twarzy, o jej niezadowalających rysach, gdy zostają słowa.

Zrobimy tak - ty się zakochasz, a ja przyjmę dobrze opowiedzianą fabułę. Nie czas na autoagresję. 

Egzamin z psychoanalizy mamy za sobą.

Wariat z wariatem tańczy w samobójstwo, ale to też już było. 

Wszystko przecież widać w szybce - tęsknoty, pióra... Tylko nie widać brzydoty.

Cold

She's sweet as pie but if you break her heart
She'll turn cold as a freezer
That fairy tale ending without a knight in shining armor




even if it's no one's fault but mine