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Personal Diary | The Emotional Triangles |
INTRO
The encounter gives birth to something richer than two individuals, 1 + 1 = 3. The three is openness, complementarity This is the beginning of the outcome: thesis, antithesis, synthesis Three, it is the triangle, with one observing the other two and waiting for its turn. It is harmony that turns on itself and has not found its way outward. [...] Three, this is the smallest of the groups. The number 3 is the two curves that intertwine and giving birth to something that is much more than the two. It is the harmony of the curves that has erased the roughness of the line.
Didier Hallépée
CHAPTER 1
.♤.
THE SKY IS CRYING
• Friday, May 08 •
I am nothing for anyone. This certainty is so ingrained in my brain. Paranoia takes over. Permanent suspicion of abandonment and rejection. I hear these whispers around me, these voices in my head which would convince me to go and hide, to lower those eyes which do not want to see anymore. Stop all tug of war in search of my own identity.
'And I wander through the days like a whore in a world without sidewalks.'
• Monday, May 18 •
I am ashamed, I feel sorry. I find myself disgusting and with me these emotional roller coasters which tire me and exhaust me. I am the child calling for his mom for help. This woman who claims to be independent and free. I am divided, my ass between two musical chairs. I'm afraid of dying. I'm afraid I never existed. Fear always catches up.
• Tuesday, May 19 •
Nauseous awakening. I feel terribly entangled in a constant void. I claim to make free and informed choices but these choices no longer belong to me. They are made according to others. I am guided by fear. The terrible fear of failure, this perpetual anguish. In an insidious scheme of self-destruction.
Self-sabotage, this attack that is not in order.
• Friday, May 22 •
Waking up is difficult, my eyes are heavy but I can't sleep again. I lie in my bed staring at the walls around me and their green wallpaper peeled off in places, the window whose blinds are only half raised. I find it hard to get up and the tasks I have to face seem insurmountable. I have this vague, painful impression that someone else will assume my responsibilities for me. Because, deep down, I have this fucking scare.
It is raining. And suddenly I like this rain. It's like we feel less alone when we cry.
The sky is crying with us.
© Birdy'
The encounter gives birth to something richer than two individuals, 1 + 1 = 3. The three is openness, complementarity This is the beginning of the outcome: thesis, antithesis, synthesis Three, it is the triangle, with one observing the other two and waiting for its turn. It is harmony that turns on itself and has not found its way outward. [...] Three, this is the smallest of the groups. The number 3 is the two curves that intertwine and giving birth to something that is much more than the two. It is the harmony of the curves that has erased the roughness of the line.
Didier Hallépée
CHAPTER 1
.♤.
THE SKY IS CRYING
• Friday, May 08 •
I am nothing for anyone. This certainty is so ingrained in my brain. Paranoia takes over. Permanent suspicion of abandonment and rejection. I hear these whispers around me, these voices in my head which would convince me to go and hide, to lower those eyes which do not want to see anymore. Stop all tug of war in search of my own identity.
'And I wander through the days like a whore in a world without sidewalks.'
• Monday, May 18 •
I am ashamed, I feel sorry. I find myself disgusting and with me these emotional roller coasters which tire me and exhaust me. I am the child calling for his mom for help. This woman who claims to be independent and free. I am divided, my ass between two musical chairs. I'm afraid of dying. I'm afraid I never existed. Fear always catches up.
• Tuesday, May 19 •
Nauseous awakening. I feel terribly entangled in a constant void. I claim to make free and informed choices but these choices no longer belong to me. They are made according to others. I am guided by fear. The terrible fear of failure, this perpetual anguish. In an insidious scheme of self-destruction.
Self-sabotage, this attack that is not in order.
• Friday, May 22 •
Waking up is difficult, my eyes are heavy but I can't sleep again. I lie in my bed staring at the walls around me and their green wallpaper peeled off in places, the window whose blinds are only half raised. I find it hard to get up and the tasks I have to face seem insurmountable. I have this vague, painful impression that someone else will assume my responsibilities for me. Because, deep down, I have this fucking scare.
It is raining. And suddenly I like this rain. It's like we feel less alone when we cry.
The sky is crying with us.
© Birdy'
