i think there's an important aspect to indulge into one's world. to permanently construct the materialization of the nightmare that lives in silently. for me I think I have been dancing around in circles with the essence of the messages I want to give and these feelings that have blocked me for so long. I think part of the discovery of my voice has been bravery that comes with validating one's story in order to then portray other's stories successfully.
i painted myself pretty many times*, images of my own personality and structure are plagued with idealization; to survive violence first hand and the vulnerability that comes with it; a heavy burden. Foreign.
a boyfriend i used to have when i was younger was abusive psychologically, emotionally and physically. he would keep me in his basement without food for days and even weeks. i was forced to sleep 10-16 hours a day, confined to a hot tiny room, humid and dark. now that i look back i was never in love with this person. there wasn't affection but pure pity. I'd like to think that although i was smart, the goodness of my heart was greater than my reason. i thought that i could save anybody who was alone, in need for love, i had so much light i wanted to give it away.
at the end we had many fights that resulted in bruises, mostly for me since he was considerably more strong and taller than me. in one of those instances he threw me down the stairs; i landed on his tools that were scattered in the floor. the door had always been open but i was manipulated in such a way that i thought it was closed, i thought this was my destiny, my only reality, alienated from my family, my friends, from art and any thought and principle that i once had. my opinions were for the air. it was quiet and empty.