artes

i don't know how really to say this, but I really value things, I value places, value moments that take me back to sometime in my past, in our past, and it's just no matter how bad it is, how terrible that memory is, it really just helps me go back in time, because you know what, happiness mixed with hope, is literally something all of us take for granted some times. You look back, without questioning or just simply avoid certain things because you are scared of what they signify, and especially because they will lead you back in time, and there are times where you can't run, as reality is at your doorstep .Then, it hits you, out of nowhere, all your pain, all your rage, everything you ever set your mind to starts to fade in pursuit in that moment of nostalgic normalcy. In the end, don't we all look forward to that split-second where it feels like you're all safe and comfortable and it's alright, and you are young and in love again, and nothing ever goes wrong? I guess we are so afraid because we don't like what the moment after will bring. You are back to hating and crying. A person, once very close to me, said that hate is a really powerful but wasteful emotion, and that they don't have hate in their heart. Over time, i have allowed myself to accept that they were wrong. It's human to hate. It's human to be pissed at people who didn't do right by you or in your heart of hearts, you do feel and know that you didn't do right by them. And these moments may come and go, and it feels like all you ever wanted was to make everything go back to where it was, but then you remember why things aren't the way they used to be. You go back to the other side of that nostalgia coin and you feel every bit of the insult, the pain, the betrayal and the neglect you once faced, and it scars you just the way it did so long ago. You feel your blood boiling and your eyes watering up, the same way they did back then. You hate that they changed your definition of love, you hate that they didn't run mountains for you and the fact that you can't hold it against them. You hate your heart that it was willing to feel and go so deep and throw you into a void, from which, for the life of you, had no idea how to get out of. You hate that every time you view a specific piece of art or see the citylights at a certain angle or smoke a particular cigarette, they are going to be with you, whether you like it or not. Last year, I witnessed this artist live and they said that life, essentially, it sucks. It's way too much hurt and disappointment and anger, but at the end of the day, we keep living because we as humans, see beauty in things and we know how to value it. At the end of the day, we live for these small moments that bring us euphoria, moments that transcend time and justify everything that's wrong. And that's where is love is born, in those moments. Where everything is alright and you would go through hell to experience that. It's very fucking cruelly poetic but honestly, it is what it is. It's easy to tire of but futile to eradicate.

Musings of Artes Blackheart. My ode to Daxayoni.