The Dilemma.

And the movies, the shows, the books, the world, they tell us love is sacrifice. That they are one and the same, intertwined. But why? What if I don't want to sacrifice. What if I can't anymore? Why does compromise have to be so closely related? And does that make me selfish? But I have never managed to love like that, in a non sacrificial, non compromised way. I can't tell you it's possible when I have no proof. And so I don't love. I try, I pretend. I fail. And they tell me I will be lonely... Maybe I will.

Photography: Muzi

Who Wins?

And when the devil loses, on those rare occasions, I think it might feel even worse than when he wins. At least when he wins, you got what you wanted too. When he loses, you just got what you think, what you thought you deserved. Maybe you are supposed to let the devil win. This battle is so tiring, so pointless, when all I want is to give in.

Photography: Muzi.

Please.

Can someone please tell the past that that's the only place it belongs.

Photography: Muzi.

Under Your Thumb.

I can't stand people who try and make you question yourself with every remark, every sly glance your way. For so long you successfully kept me so under your thumb. For so long I failed to even think of fighting my way out, I didn't even want to. I'm not sure what more to say, Fuck Off. It's none of your business. And although it's sad that you can one day not know anything about the person you once knew every single thing about, it makes sense, they are brand new after all. And if the cells in my body regenerate every second, why shouldn't I?

Photography: Muzi.

The Up In Flames.

And even though like i said, I know that everything is temporary. Even though I know that sooner or later, you will have to say goodbye... It still shocks me when I witness it. Let's raise a glass to the deceased. And how can you bear to lift your arm to do so? How does the heaviness thats in your heart not translate to that? The throbbing, the goosebumps, the splintered, sharp edges of your broken heart digging into you, how does that not translate into the broken smile on your face? And the goodbye that has to, and therefore does come tumbling out through your half upturned lips, tripping and falling over itself, as it escapes the warmth and what it knows... how does it manage to force itself out?

Photgraphy: Muzi.

The Past.

Head to head, eye to eye, sneer to sneer. Upturned top lips and glaring eyes. The old me and the new me, face to face. Who will win? Who will persevere? I am habit, I am one, I am only, screams the slightly bedraggled one. The scars on her arms and the snag in her voice tell you all you need to know, she emerged from a war victorious. The other is adorned only by neon, only by the light in her eyes which had not yet been put out. It was harder to bring her to battle, after all, she only fought with herself. I am improved, I am one, I am only, screams the one with light in her eyes. Head to head, eye to eye, sneer to sneer. You cant get rid of me, the other sing songs, arms high, ready, as always for battle. I am part of you. I am what made you who you are. You cant get rid of me.

Photograhy by: Muzi.

Untouched Mythology.

And we sat and twisted the words, until we made them what we want. Until we made them fit us, and what we believed. Need? Want? It doesn't exist. Those individuals, those who merge from two, slowly into one. Those for whom the fire dies in their eyes day by day. Those for whom we see their passions, slowly becoming a singular. Those for whom two heartbeats are more important, four hands to cling to, four eyes to well up, two pairs of lips to care and cry and scream so desperately. We made those individuals out to have made a choice. It will never happen to us. We don't need to take that road. And the crisis was averted. We made the words speak. We made them tell us only what we wanted them to.

Photography by: Muzi.