Anastasia Trusova, “And The Sunset Came” Acrylic On Canvas / 60 X 80 Cm / 2022

NightlyNoirVintage

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I feel like I am totally invisible. At home and everywhere else. Like I could say something completely earth shattering, and nobody would even acknowledge me. 

I feel like everything I do is taken out of context, like I could be with someone who said something wrong, and it would be my fault. 

I feel like I will never be right. I can’t trust my own thoughts, so why should I expect others to?

I feel like I can’t share myself fully with anyone because I know that they would leave so fast.

I want to get better, and I am putting so much fucking effort into it. Into being, looking, feeling, smiling, crying better. But it isn't working. At what point is it no longer worth even trying?

first base is putting your cigarettes out on each other second base is psychosexual obsession third base is murder-suicide

Free my woman she did all of it but I don’t care

she has little moon earrings- i have star clips in my hair. she goes to the local community college and plans on transferring to the major university- im in a sorority and my life is intertwined in the large school's greek life. she's a local- im seven hours away. she grew up on vast expanses of land, caring for life and surrounded by her family's love- i grew up in a cluttered house that sucked the soul out of anyone who dares to enter and every time I go home i lose a little part of myself. she listens- i talk. she calls be pretty and for once, i believe it. she smiles and i laugh in her tiny car and we stare at each other in the lamp light of a small parking lot after missing our desert reservations. she walks me to my car and we both ask if we could kiss each other, our laughter ringing in the air next to the papa john's we had to bathroom break in because we asked at the same time. she hesitates so i pull her in and it isn't rushed or desperate, it's just gentle and full of potential for something beautiful and she cradles my face and my hands are on her hips and we're next to my beat up car. she tastes like the chocolate milkshake from earlier that night and i can only assume i taste of the cigarette i smoked earlier on that she called "hot". she is a middle child and im the eldest and we still talk and she didn't ghost me and oh, I think something beautiful can come out of this.

Art is not my friend right now

I am filled with so much jealousy for other’s art, I am unable to enjoy my own.

Art is not my friend right now.

I can’t come up with anything new. I miss the days where this wasn’t a chore. We aren’t friends right now because I want my art to be something it is not.

Art is not my friend right now. I can’t make my hands create what is in my head.

Art is not my friend right now.

But all I want is for our friendship to return. It may be selfish, I want her to bring me joy. She might be the only one that can. I want to bring her to life, so we can walk hand in hand amongst creation.

Art will be my friend again soon.

“my hair journey” what journey did you go on. “journey.” that’s no journey. you had shoulder length hair and you grew it out. the word you want is progression. do not bring frodo and odysseus into this discussion.

friends for my tears

Tears, my greatest acquaintance

Left to dry on my balcony

I hope they mix with the guilt spilled on the railing

And that my tears find solace in the stress that stains the windows

And mingle with the blood crusted on the stairs

So that maybe, in some way, 

Some part of me is joined with something. 

Even if it is another part of my own self.

Haiku #1

Your hand is in mine  My heart beating close to yours  You, who made me love

in the pilot jackie teases shauna abt her “catholic phase” and to that shauna responds that she liked the saints bc she thought they were “so tragic”. in the last ep of s1 during their fight the first insult shauna calls jackie is tragic. she calls her other things too but its so intresting that the first thing she thinks of is tragic. to me thats like a freudian slip. jackie was shaunas saint.