a guide for self-care during heartbreak
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i woke up this morning and imagined having a moon tattoo on my right chest. maybe it’s because i have three freckles that form a triangle constellation over my heart - and i wanted to complete the feeling.
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on days when i feel bad i draw pictures of what is happening inside of me, and then somehow, inexplicably, i feel better.
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don’t tell me this is love.
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i remember this feeling, this place - a dark place - but this time i’m standing on a sea cliff looking down at the abyss, rather than drowning inside of it. but even if i were to fall down again, i know how to climb up.
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these months i am existing in a terrain of my life which is full of dark holes — each varying in depth, gravitational pull, and intensity. they feel like bombs scattered throughout time and space, triggered by anything: a tiny fragment of memory, a thought, an image. I could step on a crack, fall in, and be incapacitated for hours. like a ghost of myself.
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have you ever seen - or felt - the presence of dark birds flying at night? they are a flutter of black wings. nearly silent. almost like black butterflies. when I lived in rural japan during the first lockdown, I’d walk to the lake at night and sit by the docks, watching their shadows. sometimes they scared me, becuse I could barely see their wings. only vague silhouettes.
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on walking in silence along a long, dry road
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when life is too ugly to make art about, what can you do, except, failing to die; wait?
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I made this map of dark emotions to see all of the unholdable feelings on one page - roughly organized by how “unbearable” feelings are (the worst feelings on the left bottom corner).
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and maybe it wasn’t as beautiful as i thought, maybe it was all a lie and the black water will be the truth
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anxiety feels like being attacked by flesh-eating birds - while you are the one inside the birdcage. always trapped. breathing, but just barely.
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I just opened a new room in this webhouse, and it’s called a dark place. it will be where I collect all of my notes-to-self and travelogues from time spent in dark places — as a reminder that I go there pretty often, and come out each time — having gained some treasures from the abyss. the problem with dark places is that I think they will last forever; I think they will suffocate me. but each time I visit, it is an opportunity for me to become more intimate with the shadows in my own head. the abyss ends, eventually. the abyss lives always inside me.
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