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i have no idea what i'm doing anymore

 

SHE WOLF

I was reading about near-death experiences the other day, that then segue-ed into facts about space. 

Nothingness is difficult to grasp, it's what Damien Hirst was trying to get at with his shark in a vitrine. Not nothingness exactly but death. Granted the shark is explained by the title - "The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living". 

Death is still taboo, to talk about it, to contemplate it concerns people, or maybe it just concerns people when it's me talking about death and dying. 

I remember once, there was a young woman, who had hung herself. She was on the news, I want to say she completed suicide because of bullying but I can't be sure. I don't remember her name, but I can picture her face and I can picture her self portrait that she had painted.

Minor details that mean so much to that story, but not as much as her name.

It's that type of record I want to leave behind. 

'YOUR HAIR WANTS CUTTING'

Thank you for your wonderful comments when I let my emotions flood this space. It means the most to me, and I appreciate those that reached out. 

Do I have to make sense? Do my words have to anything other than a feeling that moves and sways like the trees? 

Can I post photos of my arse on the internet and only reap the positives? 

Can I expect to be able to do the splits if my yoga practice has dropped off?

Can I live off tea and cigarettes? 

Probably not is the answer for these. Let's be fair, I'm always thinking of questions if not asking them.

My name is Erin, and I remember everything.

‘WE ARE THE BAD GUYS IN SOMEONE ELSE’S STORYBOOK’