A small dose of life.


Typewriter Series #82


Jenny Holzer, “Survival Series”


by Risha Voronchenko

i remember when my first boyfriend and i started dating and i said, “can we run downtown holding hands?” i think i’ve always been a dreamer.

i want to know there are people who know how to flirt with their inner monsters. i want to be around people who know how to absorb all the bullshit in their lives and transform it into art, who are brave enough to take their monsters by the hand and teach them how to dance.i want to be around people who are alive, who know how to stay alive.

"I want my life to be a beautiful maddening story, like it’s straight out of a movie." Me

"i miss being around the people i love."

i miss it too. last night, i dreamt i was driving as far as i could to get away from this place. and i would drive until i ran out of gas and when i did, i was stranded on a highway that was empty and i stepped out and looked at the stars and then i screamed and cried and kicked my car and when i got back in the car, you were there. and my car suddenly had gas again, and we drove back. and we laughed and we loved and we cried and we hoped and we yelled and sang at the top of our lungs, but all of it, we did together. you’re the closest to a real friend that i’ve ever had. you’re the only person who is capable of making me laugh and cry in a blink of an eye. you are the only person that makes me feel real.

i spend so much time awake. i spend so much time crying and not enough time laughing. i spend so much time alone instead of seeking comfort because it’s so much easier than risking being let down. it’s so much easier than letting your guard down and being bare, waiting for others’ reactions as they learn who you really are. because once people know your weaknesses, it’s only a matter of time before they use it against you. because i don’t want anyone else to get to know me if i have you. i just wish you were here. i wish that you weren’t a call away, because i wish you were a hug away.

i can’t my explain my sadness. if i could, i wouldn’t be writing this. i would’ve told somebody already. i am not depressed, just emotional. just fragile. just sensitive. it feels like i’ve lived with it my whole life every time the feelings crawl back the way they do. i spend my time searching for people who i can connect with, who can relate to what i am feeling, who will feel closer to me as a result of sharing what i’m feeling instead of leaving, who won’t tell me that my feelings are invalid. i never want to scare people away. i am always afraid they’ll leave. because they all do.

they never come back unless i ask.
they never come back unless i ask.

sometimes i feel like i’m just trying to run away from these feelings. these feelings of being forgotten. that’s why i don’t feel close to anybody. that’s why i’m so distant. this is how it works - i feel closest to the people who are the farthest away because they can never see the whole picture of me. and if they don’t, they don’t have a chance to leave.

somebody like me remembers everything. i remember dates. i remember moments. i remember what people like. i remember what people say. but throughout the years, i’ve stopped. i stopped because i realized people don’t. they don’t remember. and it hurt me each and every time they didn’t. and i knew it was my own sensitivity that would push people away. i don’t know how to explain to someone that everything means the world to me when they ask me with their monotonic voice why this is such a big deal.

because it is. because everything matters. because i care about everything.


Camille Pissarro / made by mollyinkenya.

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themed by overratedvogue