Clara Oswald appreciation post
I’m a gentle person after all.
I built armors within my skin. I grew shields in my eyes.
But at the end of the day, I found myself asking people if they’re okay.
I built a box and I spent months inside of it; not letting anyone to come near me or even hear me sigh,
But in the end, I went outside that box and I burned it.
And then I realized, I did that not because I am giving the world the chance to break me into pieces again; but to give the world the chance to pick up the pieces of myself I cannot even touch.
Truth is, no matter how hard I tried to protect myself, I need the world to touch me and to help me because I’m a lonely person and deep inside me, I know that I long for smiles, touches, “it’s okay,” and for people to be around me no matter how hard I’ve pushed them away.
I’ve tried to be hard but at the end of the day, I’m that kind of person who needs someone to be there for me.
I feel numb, not like physically, but mentally. It’s like I’m engulfed in this dark never ending room, there’s no edge for me to reach, no light at the end of the tunnel. I’m lost, lost in my own mind and my demons want to come out and play.
I like art, and by art I mean music, poetry, sex, paintings, the human body, literature. All of this is art to me.