Doctor.

My mom took me to the doctor's office today,
I just felt sick with a backache, and that was all.
The result of going was fatal.
She told me that I'm overweight,
That I also needed to go to a psychiatrist.

What else could she have said to send me back into my hole?
I was fine, the depression was going away.
My bulimia was gone.
A trip to the doctors office was all I needed to be shoved back in.
I thought I was going to be okay.
Reality is unloving.

-Visu

Fears.

A list of my fears:

                                           

To never reach my life goals.

                                                  Being abandoned.

                To be alone.

                                                           Monotonous days.

                                     Abuse.

                                                                                     Growing Old

                         Not changing the world.

                                                                      To not be able to express myself.

Fear itself.

                                Lonely Saturday nights.

            To be let down.

                                                         Waking up in the morning.

Not being loved back.
                                                                                  Staying overweight.

                                           To be a failure.

-Visu

50's event at Ummagumma Pub.

And they asked me to pose for them!

xD

I think I look alright though haha.

Tip.

These moments alone, I will never forget.
Letters with a tablespoon of coffee and cigarettes,
a teaspoon of distant jazz,
and a hint of unheard conversations.
Each bite is a fruitful desert,
And when all is gone, I once again anticipate rain.

Check please?

-Sam Visu

I want to paint today.

I hope I can anyways.

Gentle Lady, Do Not Sing




Gentle lady, do not sing 
Sad songs about the end of love; 
Lay aside sadness and sing 
How love that passes is enough. 

Sing about the long deep sleep 
Of lovers that are dead, and how 
In the grave all love shall sleep: 
Love is aweary now.


-James Joyce




I love this poem and the message it gives to us. 
Love is not entirely over, but you can remember it, and be thankful that it happened. 
Even after the event of love, it still lingers in your air.

Hula.

¿Cuántos giros necesito para retroceder al mundo grandotote de mi niñez?

Elegí la soledad, esa tristeza masoquista en la melancolía de la música. Sobre mi cama llorando letras. Nadie me entendió.

No me dejaron salir y disfrutar escalofríos y adrenalina del aire libre con mis compas, probando la pinche amarga ebriedad.

Esa persona de mis sueños me ignoró, y me disfracé de chica perfecta solo para que su cara se volteara a mi dirección.

Hice una maravilla en mi salón para que mis papás fueran felices conmigo. Para mí, sería mucho.

Camine por la tienda con mis papis por esos pasillos enormes llenas de cosas. Llore, y me tire por ese juguete ¡que quería! ¡Yo lo quería! Pero mis papis me dijeron que no. Nunca me hacen caso de nada.

Erase una vez, no me dejaron jugar con esto. Pero, aquí en mis manos tengo la imaginación, libertad, testarudez. No hare berrinche.
Y ya no cargo sobre mí la fuerza oscura que me detenga de lo que siento.
Como niña de luz del sol.

Jugare.
Girare.


-Sam Visu

Dainty.

Waltz.

As the melody played through the cold summer air
wasps stopped to watch the swooning spectacle.
They looked abroad and encountered a pleasant dance.
The way that this animal moved, unlike any creature
they have laid eyes on formerly.
Lurching back and forth, flying, like when the tide pulls with the moon.
Silver and red ribbons continue of this waltz.
Frame so fragile,
Movement so graceful,
Character so innocent.

-Visu

Progress.

Today is a Monday.
And, well, I'm finally realizing how important these years are for me. There are so many writing projects due by the final days of October that I have yet to finish!

To remind you, older Sam (of course you are reading this to remember what you were like), you are writing the school play, Jerome, and those two projects for writing class, the hula hoop and the small house for the museum. Then of course you are trying to tie together an idea for Nanowrimo, which starts in November.

Today is a Monday, and it seems like you are always waiting to late to begin.
Begin now.

(Hi older me!)