I feel you so much right now, so let’s go.

I hate you. I hate my depressive episode. It is not somebody, it is a “it”.

I hate it very much, because it feels like a partner that I don’t want to have. A partner that follows me no matter where I go. When I am alone, I am not, because there is this constant voice of hesitation and harsh critique. I don’t worry about others much, because I know the worst will happen if I just stay by myself and wait.

cause the time has gone. I take so many projects because first I feel the rise of energy and I blindly follow it to wake up very soon drained, lost and so mad, so fucking mad at myself like I can’t tell you.

Maybe that’s why I love sex so much and I mythologize women in my life. Cause when I hear their bodies, their presence, their everything, — I don’t hear myself, as if I don’t exist at all, there is just this pleasure around her. I got addicted to this sensation very early in my life. I used to see a problem in this type of thinking, but I always come back to this obsession. eventually. The women in my life are the most beautiful you would ever see, and I cannot do nothing about it.

This obsession is my artistic tool that I don’t want to freak out about anymore. I talked so much about it on therapy, but now I genuinely think we can build a fucking decent conversation by just unwrapping something we collectively felt worried about. And still feel.