*WARNING* some posts may be triggering
Post with 2 notes
Another performance gone.
It was great. I love performing, despite saying I don’t. It’s such an amazing thing to do. Realised for the first time why I cry immediately after finishing a piece of music: it’s because somewhere in the depths of my brain I know the likelihood of me ever playing that piece ever again is less than slim. There is so much beautiful music out there. I find it so devastating that I won’t ever have the opportunity to explore it entirely. Today, among other things, we played Shostakovich 5th symphony. It reminds me of my own mood swings and unpredictability. It is totally unrelated and I feel terrible relating my own meagre existence to someone trying to save their life in Russia in 1937. The third movement is on the shortlist of songs I want played at my funeral. So much passion and raw emotion. Incredible.
Photo reblogged from I've been locked inside your heartshaped box with 79 notes
Source: apainthatwontbefed
Post with 2 notes
Performance in 6 1/2 hours. Dress rehearsal in 1 1/2. Dressed, ready, dying inside. Paint a smile on, let them see so they can stop worrying. Wear pretty clothes and shiny jewellery, it hides so much. Feign confidence, that really throws them. Do anything to avoid being me. Words build up but they have no way to escape their cage. Invasions are close. The magic word: please.
i’m dead already then
Me too, I think…
Post with 1 note
Oh the irony.
I have some add-on thingy on chrome that defines words if they are clicked on in some bizarre series of incomprehensible morse code clicks (not really but I have absolutely no idea how it works), and this often occurs when I’m too impatient in refreshing my dash. Usually it highlights and defines “source”, but just then it highlighted someone’s url, more specifically the word “life”. According to this, the definition of “life” is: “The condition that distinguishes animals and plants from inorganic matter, including the capacity for growth, reproduction, functional activity, and continual change preceding death.”
So then, am I alive? Are you?
Post with 3 notes
All that is left.
I’m so very tired. I try my hardest to live, to take care of myself, to participate within society. To what end? I am stagnant. Everybody I know is moving forward: taking steps to be employed in their workplace of choice, looking to get into honours next year, travelling the world, married and pregnant. They know what the want. They are on their way to getting it. I’m stuck in this limbo. Not well enough to complete uni or to get a job or anything, not sick enough to need to focus on getting better. I don’t want to be me. I want a new start. A new brain. New skin. Another chance. Anything. At the end of the day, everybody dies. I’m not sure what the purpose of this is. I’m sorry. Everything is so shit and I’m so sick of it but I can’t do anything about it. I can feel disaster creeping up on me. Something has to give. I don’t know what. Would you want your friend, your partner, your sibling, your family member holding on if they were in this much “pain”? Wouldn’t you want them to get some respite? I’m sorry for my babble. Ignore it if you actually bother to read it in the first place. I’m fine really, just over-dramatic. Escape whilst you still have the chance.
Photoset reblogged from congratulations on your face. with 89 notes
Elina Nilsson
Source: Flickr / elinanilsson
Post with 1 note
Went to the ballet last night. All those perfect bodies. Ex-teachers, ex-classmates, ex-friends, all on stage, all amazing, all having made it. Me, sitting there, watching their success. Drifting further away from the people on stage, closer and closer to the machinery underneath. Recognition of more than half the members of the orchestra. Teachers, classmates, friends. All current. All successful. Me, sitting there, still on the sidelines. Doubtful that I will ever be there, part of it all. Doubtful that I will be anywhere.
Performing tomorrow. In the afternoon. Maybe. Can’t play very well at the moment. Arms continuing to get worse and control diminishing. I will never be good enough. I took away that capacity. What does that leave? Nothing.
Page 1 of 117
