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A sneak peak of my Pinterest board dedicated to Mona Gray from An Invisible Sign of My Own:
https://pin.it/59cGr8iBL
1d ago
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Persistence
Such a sweet and delicate choice giving up is. Growing up as a person with traits to avoid everything never really helped. Trying to be willing to participate enough to change myself - or was it to satisfy others?
Questioning the existence itself, I only have the motivation to write this down solely due to the want of eliminating the feeling of depression. I am in a vulnerable position where I am always alone, distracted from others. Derealization slowly slithers into my mind whenever I feel a sense of ache in my head. The determination that I'm not alone in this; who knows if everyone else is just created by my illusions? Delusions.
Going through life can be a task of perseverance. Knowing too much never really resulted one with satisfying gifts. Ecstatic enough, quite hidden, the misery to everything is. Why, I'm definitely most afraid to die alone with nobody on my side. But oh, how lovely being alone really is though, don't you think?
I myself am who knows me best, who understands me like no-one could ever do. But I keep marching further in hope to find an entity that even can share a single piece of me. We are all in a game of puzzle, in the end. Finding someoe to fit inside this cage of an ongoin carousel.
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I brought phrases from my journal and created some connections :)
Always remember: although parts of your life can be draining and even leave a mark inside a page, there's so much more things that you can feel and see outside of the edges of blue. Your life doesn't have to be the same as others - you will find your own definition of 'happiness' and 'joy'.
Music: Nocturne in B flat major, Op.9, No.1 - Frederic Chopin
Image from Pinterest
Jan 29, 2025
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In my closet, I discovered a hidden door that led to a new room—I guess the door was in plain sight all along; I could just never bring myself to look and see what was behind it.
The first time I opened the door, the room was filled with men’s clothing and belongings that had been abandoned; I got the sense that they had been there a long time, but they just as easily could have last been touched yesterday. He told me to leave everything alone in the room, not to touch anything; that it wasn’t mine to take. I looked around, lingering for a long moment—everything somehow looked familiar. I closed the door shut. I wondered how anyone could have left so many beautiful things behind.
Secretly, I returned again to the room when I had some time alone and found it filled with women’s things now: little treasures and mementos and knick-knacks (he hates my knick-knacks because they are so frivolous and take up space and needlessly create clutter, he says in waking life, ever cold and rational) of a life well-lived; fabulous stylish accoutrements that would perfectly elevate an outfit; glamorous gowns that seemed like they would fit me and hug my curves just right.
In the corner, I found a wedding dress made of delicate shimmering off-white silk and organza, flowers hand-embroidered onto it with care. I ran my hands over it. It took my breath away.
I woke up with the song I had been listening to last night playing in my head.
Mar 1, 2025
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i toss and i turn with the pillow staying put,
welcoming a new wave of anxiety with each movement
2:18 on the clock and the fan adds more momentum to my unattainable thoughts
buried in the need to see, and learn the unknown
yet, i lay on the surface as a parched rock in the middle of my favorite beach,
reeking of the current simplicities of life
though its surely a blessing in disguise which i might recall five years from now
standing by, holding onto my innocence, waiting to believe in a miracle or see a comet pass by in the dark night sky
Mar 1, 2025
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loveee fresh pages to project my life on, feeling in tune with the cyclical nature of writing
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