We all want things we can’t have. Being a decent human being is accepting that.
― John Fowles, The Collector
We all want things, period. It is okay to want, but what happens when wanting becomes the only tool to categorize everything? I want this less than that therefore that is better, more valuable, more necessary than is this. Is this what they call the desirability capital? If wanting much creates a currency then to be wanted creates power so is this what is happening to me every time I feel wanted? I become a collectible that can be bought and is this my power over those who want me? Isn’t this cruel for everyone? I think it is but then why I like it so much?
Like little Danny Kelly in Christos Tsiolka’s Barracuda I want too to become better, stronger, faster to be more valuable, to be more expensive, to be wanted by more and more, to be admired and to be bought, to be owned and to be placed on the highest shelf of someone’s collection so I can look down at the collector in the utmost cruelty, judging them cause they wanted me. Who the fuck wants this mess that is me, is the message beneath it all. And the impostor syndrome triggers.
In The Friendship Song, Laura Jane Grace is singing, over a happy major-tone based tune:
No, I don’t have many friends
I only ever seem to fuck over them
You’re not like the rest of them
You accept me for who I am
And I don’t judge you for it, and that’s what friendship is
And I am wondering what is this sickness in my brain having me turn in circles, patterns and looking for signs of someone to save me. I don’t even know from what I need to be saved, fuck. Although, lately I simply want to be seen instead of saved and this is a step forward I guess. But this is only until someone comes closer and express a sexual or erotic or romantic desire for me. Then it’s all saving again. Madness. Maybe the trick is to be focused on friendship instead of sex and maybe Christina has hacked the way out of destructive patterns and think that I am the one who have listened to the fucking song a gazillion times crying over it and not her!
Anyway, I am only writing this here because I talked about writing this blog in therapy and me and K discussed how writing can help identifying feelings. I like to write and I want to train my brain not only to think what to write but also to write while I’m thinking. Being the visual type and all, it makes a whole another effect on my processing. Went for basketball yesterday, it was nice. Not monumental like the other time but nice.
Speaking of collections, I am starting a new one. Album cover art that looks like those below:
Soothing to look at. I like the feeling and I want a room full of a bunch of such covers, in baroque frames. Like a rich idiot person.
life is a horror film synopsis 