I love mornings. I love leaving the blinds open at night so I could wake up to the morning sun.
I love when there actually is sun in the morning. It brings hope, wiping everything from yesterday off and literally bringing light to a new day. The sun brings a promise that maybe this day will be different, maybe things will slowly move forward, maybe you will get the chance to do better.
What the sun doesn’t bring is a plan for the maybe’s. Ten minutes in and it’s up to you to get up and face everything.
This year I have been lucky to have my bedroom window facing the east and this spring season starting incredibly sunnily. I get to experience such warmth and beauty, even the bedsheets become less welcoming in the presence of the morning sun. What a queen.
Most mornings are successful. This set of photos is from one of such.
— I hope you liked this experimental photoset! Let me know in the comments if you’re a morning person: the rare kind 👀 —
The year of 2015 was the peak of my writing. Everything was so unexplored yet so genuine. As I was growing and taking the first steps towards more serious and consistent ways of expressing myself, the emotion was very raw and there was a lot of it.
Now, one day I skimmed through my previous files and looked at my writing blog just to find a piece of poetry that I consider to be the longest and the most honest one I’ve ever written. It was the only time I remember having such spark of inspiration. Hopelessness was part of it and the title of this post is, indeed, dramatic but so is this piece!
A little backstory: it was written in April, 2015. During that time, I was approaching my final high school exams and graduation. I – someone who was not getting the grades she wanted, who was losing interest in academic success, who was starting to explore herself and whose explorations scared the living shit out of her. I think I was also starting to get to know art, graphics and editing, but it was really hard to do without any artistic background or education. With art, there also was an issue of exposure – putting your work for people to see. Long story short, I was developing a habit of hating my work. Additionally to that, there was a collision of worlds: senior year of high school, upcoming adulthood and a new life ahead were weighing heavily on my shoulders.
And even though some issues were tackled, new ones were born, I grew as a person and am handling myself well enough, this piece remains very important to me. It’s the manifesto to the loss of innocence; to growth; to adolescence; to blooming dreams of a youngster.
It’s a song to my rebelliously ambitious self. Sung as a contradiction to itself.
— Don’t think of it too much, just enjoy —
Today I felt ill. In a state between consciousness and silence, there was a stumbling me. As I dizzily made my way to the bathroom, my body was on fire and one glance at the mirror had me staring back, through blood.
As I walked, bones broke. As I touched, felt heat instead of skin. It’s not pleasant. And at that state of mind, one of a boiling egg, I started vomiting words.
Happens a lot.
Though not particularly often in given situation. But I listened. And then wrote, surprisingly steadily, knowing that five minutes ago I had to lean against walls.
At first I thought I was writing about my physical symptoms but later on felt something more. The anxiousness of my life fell directly into the same lines below.
The body was on fire;
Awaiting death or
Burning with desire;
The eyes shot blood
And traced it;
While step by step it
All becomes too wasted;
The only difference was that after a few days, the physical symptoms will pass.