豆丁郑

生活在2.5次元对锤厨一枚 沉迷肖根 壳儿吹

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Intro

To you who may need this,

It’s been an interesting day. My puppy escaped from her crate, shredded an entire box of magic erasers and peed in my bed three times while I was out of the house, I’m running on two hours of sleep and my washing machine just exploded. Also, it’s a full moon- in Aries, no less.

I have written and re-written this piece so many times it’s almost funny. Almost. Part of me is fantasizing about throwing my computer out the window, but another, cooler-headed part of me is smart and knows that then I’d have to go and get it. And then I would have to sit down in front of a bashed up, limping laptop and tap out the very same letter I am writing to you now, but with a jammed F key.

I want to say that it’s ironic that trying to write a piece about mental health should drive me so crazy, but my boyfriend is constantly reminding me that’s not the correct usage of the word. So what is it then?

It’s hard, I guess.
Quite hard.
And vulnerable, very.
But necessary.

I have spent most of my life doing all I could to hide what now seems to be the only thing I want to talk about. I have filled pages and pages, trying to put into words what has been, for years, the silent, slow-motion killer of my spirit. I have wanted to be the most clever, the most impactful, the one whose story has the power to save lives and release all the caged unicorns into the wild. But I have also been stalling, because the release of this piece is about to cause a chain reaction- it will trigger the release of a song called Moon, which is the first single on the EP of the same name, and once that EP comes out, I’m going to have to start getting ready to get on stage again and sing.

And I am terrified to do that.

It’s been six years since I released a record, the same six since I last toured. I have been asked when I am coming back to music so many times— it means a great deal to me, by the way, that anyone still cares. I used to answer, soon, soon it will come. After a while, as I kept slyly nudging the release date further and further into the comfortably distant future, I started to feel like a liar with all my unrealized, untrue soons, and so I stopped saying anything at all.

The music was finished two years ago, but until this morning, I have not actually been certain I was going to let it out of my perfectionistic, freaked-out little paws. But now, I know I absolutely have to, or I am going to explode like my washing machine, music will pour out of my eyeballs and nose like soapy evil foam and it will be a mess that I could have prevented.

So in answer to that question of when am I coming back to music, the answer is not soon. It’s now. I’m here. And Moon comes out Friday. It’s happening.

The question I haven’t been asked, however, is why has it been so long?

Why did I disappear?

And the answer is, I’ve been disappearing for as long as I can remember.

Since I was little, I’ve felt a vast, wordless sadness that I couldn’t explain.
It separated me from everyone else, made me feel different,
other,
lost.
I didn’t tell anyone about it. I didn’t really know how. It scared me.

For years, I kept trying to escape this black hole inside of me, which felt so old and unbeatable.

It took different shapes. It was vague, just formless feeling, so hard to pin down and yet unbearably palpable and real.

I spent so many years inside of it, too close to see what was wrong.
“What is it?” I asked myself again and again, “what’s wrong with me?”
I started doing everything I could to figure out how to drag this out of the darkness and fence it in with words. Finally, I started to see it.

It takes many shapes.

It is a damp, grey blanket of absence hanging across the landscape of my mind, sucking the color out of everything.
It is a fear that comes without warning and ties my stomach in knots.
It is sudden, cold dread, for no reason.
It is an unfathomable distance I can’t cross, from the cold dark where I am locked inside my head to the warmth of another human being.
It is one unsettling thought leading to another in quick succession, spiraling out of control, nearly impossible to stop once it begins.
It is fight-or-flight, all the time.
It is a heaviness, a tiredness so dense it becomes hard to think, let alone move. A constant running out of steam.
I learned young how to make my dead limbs move, and simultaneously how to ignore the signals of my body. This is a lesson I am actively trying to unlearn.
It is a voice in my head, a voice of “reason” which told me that no matter how many wonderful things happen to me, no matter how many friends I have or how in love I may be, I will always feel just a little bit empty, that life is ultimately just a little bit pointless.

I believe that some of these things come from being sensitive and empathic, too open to the world, with all its sorrow and heartbreak.
There is ecological grief, too. It can all be overwhelming.

But also, as I found out earlier this year, I have clinical depression and anxiety.

These were the words I needed to bring what I was battling with into the light, once and for all.
And it turns out, I’m very much not alone.

There are so many of us.

I have stayed away from music for so long because I have been afraid that I wouldn’t be able to handle it. In order to sing, in order to bare my soul to a sea of strangers, I needed to be strong, I needed to be willing to be seen, and I needed to be protected.

Six years ago, I wasn’t.

Now, life is very different. I am on a slow but rewarding journey towards cultivating a healthier mental landscape. I am approaching it from all sides, with therapy, both traditional and more spiritual in nature, energy healing and hot baths, as much time in nature as I can get, doing yoga and picking up dog poop. I am once again learning to meditate. I’m bad at it, but at some point I imagine it will get easier. I take medication. I need it. It’s changed my life. I do animal cards and I journal, I read about the planets and occasionally make a stab at cutting out sugar. I am trying to get better at accepting failure, and the messiness of being human.

I’m also learning to communicate honestly and knock it off with the hiding. Shame and depression both feed on silence, and they keep you small. There is still so much stigma around the subject of mental health, and I want to do my part to tackle it. We’re losing too many beautiful people to depression, the list just keeps growing and growing. If I had not asked for help… well, I don’t know where I would be right now, but I’m glad I’m not there.

I’ve started a company called Hearth with my longtime manager and dear friend, Adrienne Butcher, along with some of our smartest, most large-hearted friends. It’s a platform for sending creative things into the world in a way which is healthy for the artist, the audience and the planet. For the first time, I feel like I am in a truly safe place, where I can have a flourishing career and a life. Moon will be our first release- hopefully, the first of many. I’m very excited.

So, now here we are. I said this thing could be no more than three pages, and it looks like I’ve done it. Sort of. I must stop, and I’m going to. This feels like a tiny miracle.

I’m still slightly nervous about the road ahead, but I’m trying not to get too far ahead of myself. These days, I am working on taking things one step at a time. I get anxious. I put on my shoes, take the tiny terror for a walk. I watch her as she puts her face in every flower, runs with wild delight. I come home, make myself something simple to eat. I try to breathe, and remember it’s all going to be ok.

One little thing at a time.

Looking back, which feels like ages ago, to when I began “to you, who may need this,” because I had no idea how else to start, I now see I was probably just talking to myself. I do need this. I hope you found something in here that you can take with you, something you can use. If only to feel better about your life for not having a flooded washing machine (you lucky duck).

Thank you for reading. I look forward to seeing you, somewhere in the world, some day. I hope I’ll be singing for you. In the meantime, take care of yourself. You’re the only you we’ve got.

with love, Alison

就 看完了ali说她被sexual assault的视频。
比想象中更难受,更心痛。
她说她选择说出来是想帮助更多和她遭遇过同样事情的人。
她真的鼓起了好大的勇气来诉说这一切。本以为自己可以却还是说着说着就哭了,哽咽到说不下去。
我没办法想象这些对她造成了多大的伤害。
她说她不知道那两个人还对别人有没有做过同样的事情,她希望只是她就好了,不要再有无辜的人了。
她是这样善良这样温柔的人啊。即使遭受了那么多依然对这个世界抱有着最大的善意,她真的是天使吧。
愿那些人渣都远离她,愿她遇到的人都是些善良至极真诚待她的人,愿这个世界对她可以再善良一些再温柔一些。她值得拥有一切美好的东西。

最喜欢的alison sudol给我点赞了……
就早上醒来看到手机都是懵的:)
太快乐了!!!!!!!

落泪的一瞬间才知道我有多喜欢她

[Shoot] Lifetime Beloved | 有生之年

BlancheRosette:








    >>>




    Shaw对于时间的概念,其实并不是很敏感。



    离开的人,消失的事,对她来说可以近在昨日,也会久远得好像是发生在上个世纪。



    就像她至今未曾太过深刻地感受到几十年已经过去了。



    要不是机器考虑她身体状况的原因,强制她退出直接行动,Shaw不会意识到自己的确正在面对世界上任何一个人都要面对的现实——



    衰老。



    这时她才会想起来,距离Root离开这个世界,踏出她的生命,已经数十年了。



    就连Bear,一向抬头眨动着乌黑眼睛,渴望她的亲近的Bear,都离去很长一段时间了。



    不久前,机器才告诉Shaw关于Lionel去世的消息。和其他人比起来,Lionel的生活算是最美好的了。



    享受了几年儿孙双全的退休生活,在衰老中没有太大痛苦地死去,委实不错。



    Shaw坐在公园里的旋转盘上,她很庆幸这么多年过去市政府没有拆了这个明显落后于城市发展的破旧公园。



    虽然说它破旧,但来往的人依然很多。大多数是父母带着小孩子,叽叽喳喳吵闹个不停。




    Shaw挪动身体,换了一个舒服一点的姿势,她讨厌承认,她的身体已不再像从前一样有力。




    旁边跑过两个小男孩儿,带起一阵风。他们你追我赶,拉动着转盘微微摇晃。




    Shaw被他们晃得有些头晕,她抬手揉了揉太阳穴,想道,这样淘气顽皮的小孩子,几十年前她可以一手揍三个。




    今时不同往日了。




    小男孩儿的动作越发剧烈,Shaw只觉得腿上的旧伤隐隐作痛起来。




    是不怎么遥远的的以前,她在一次执行一次任务中重伤,险些不能够再下地走路,那以后机器就不再发给她号码了。




    机器对她说的话她还记得很清楚。




    “你做的足够多了,Sameen,你可以休息了。”




    机器模拟Root的声音近乎百分百的完美,它说话的语气,句子中的每一个停顿,通过耳机蔓延至她的耳朵,然后是大脑。




    每一个字,每一个词,都仿佛是Root贴着她的发在她耳边低语。




    Sameen——




    Sameen.




    它叫她的名字,和Root如出一辙。




    让她恍惚间以为Root从未远去,她一直在她的身边,用那种不在意一切,玩世不恭的语气调侃她,惹她生气,以此为乐。




    她和机器争吵,就像过去她和Root争执不休。




    自Root、John和Harold相继离开后,她出任务出得更勤。每一次都是拼了命地冒险,有时一天接不到号码,就坐立难安,烦躁异常。




    机器洞察她的意图,它知道她不会自杀,主动放弃自己的生命,但她希望在执行任务的途中出点意外,换个词,或许可以说是“因公殉职”。




    所以在那一次极为严重的伤病后,机器不再让她参与任务的执行。但它依然和她交流,用Root的声音。




    Shaw觉得这是沾了Root的光。




    按理说她应该感到厌烦,每分每秒都有一个声音在你耳边,注视着你的一举一动,这不是让人感到愉快的体验。




    但那个声线,那个她曾以为自己习惯到不甚在意,却在消失之后日日夜夜盘旋在脑海,挥舞不去,有些沙哑,也不妨说是迷人的声线,让她说不出拒绝。




    机器将Root的多话都模仿得恰到好处。Shaw其实很少回答它,她是一个沉默的人,这点从未改变。




    机器为她安排了接下来的生活,她带着Bear,沉默地接受了。




    “你会是一位很出色的兽医。”




    因为第二轴人格障碍而不能再做医生,是Shaw不想提起的事情之一。




    机器把这点把握得极好,它给Shaw提供了继续做医生的机会,并且考虑周全。




    ......兽医。




    不必面对人群,和形形色色的人打交道,只需要对像Bear这样的小动物负责,让Shaw感到轻松。她的确缺乏情感,但她可以保证她拿手术刀的手永远平稳。




    Shaw承认在机器说出这句话时,她又想到了Root,想到了她留给她的最后一句话。




    “这样的你很美。”




    Shaw摸了摸别在胸前的名牌,Dr Sameen·Shaw,她不知道自己为什么一直戴着这样一块小小的金属牌子,名牌因为暴露在阳光下很长一段时间,变得温暖起来。




    午后的阳光轻易地就让人感到懒洋洋的,Shaw倚靠在扶手栏杆上,微微仰着头。




    她想想自己这一生,前半段说起来不太美好,后来遇见那帮人,那帮人,她想道,如果此刻John,或者Lionel在这里,一定会惊讶得合不上嘴。




    Shaw竟然也有这样笑的时候。




    她才知道那完全可以说得上是黑暗。




    他们离开得早,但所幸还有她,坚守了他们共同的信念,她想。




    Shaw突然很想吃三明治。




    按她的喜好制作得分毫不差的三明治。



    她对着面前的空气,低低地说道:



    “再说一次吧。”



    “把她的话再重复一次吧。”



    周围三三两两的行人来往不息,她却什么都听不见,她觉得视线都模糊起来。



    一定是因为阳光太耀眼了。



    耳畔的回应来得很快,这么多年,Shaw养成了随身戴耳机的习惯。



    “好的,Sam.”



    机器的声音依旧柔和,它缓缓复述着一段跨越生死,穿梭了几十年时光的话语,听过许多次,每一个词句都烙印上了岁月的痕迹。



    Shaw就在这种氛围里,感受到了倦意的袭来。



    在即将阖上眼睛的瞬间,她似乎看见了逆着光走来的那个人。



    她一点都没变,笑容狡黠,眼神里全都是温柔。



    你终于来找我了吗?



    嗯。



    我来找你了。





    在这有生之年。








    >>> 




    我家对面住着一个兽医,我一直都知道。



    她替我治好了我儿子生病的狗,免得他一番伤心难过,我很感激她。



    一开始她带着一条看起来非常凶猛的德国牧羊犬,搬到我家对面时,我其实有点怕她。她的面孔十分冷漠,拒人于千里之外,我们做邻居三个月,我只和她说过一句话。



    那还是我儿子想要逗弄她的狗,她将她的狗唤回去,说的好像还不是英语。后来我才知道那是荷兰语。



    “回来,Bear.”

    好吧,准确地说,这连一句话都算不上,只是两个单词。



    可想而知,当我得知她竟然是一名兽医的时候,有多么惊讶。



    我是一名作家,有两个孩子。为了寻求安静的写作环境,我才选择在郊区买了房子。可这样一位医术高超的兽医,没有在市中心谋求高昂的薪水,反而搬来偏僻的市郊,我非常不能理解。



    今天的天气非常好,我的两个儿子吵着要去附近的公园玩儿,我拗不过他们,只好带着他们去了。




    两个顽皮的小男孩儿在公园的草地上来回跑得正欢,我坐在一边的长椅上,一面晒着阳光,一面打量着周围的行人。



    作家必须善于观察生活,在生活中发现写作的素材。是以我环视周围,希望能得到灵感的眷顾。



    近来我的脑海里总是放映着一个故事,一个关于疯狂黑客杀手和冷漠政府特工的故事。



    我很少接触这类科幻,或者说是犯罪的题材,所以我对此一头雾水,完全摸不着头脑。



    但它却不理会我的疑惑,在我的脑海中日渐清晰。



    故事情节,人物形象,背景和环境,动作和对话,都水到渠成。



    就在我这几天不知道是第几次陷入沉思的时候,我的小儿子打断了我。



    “妈妈!你看到住在我们家对面的兽医阿姨了吗?”



    我顺着他圆滚滚的指尖看去,果然在不远处的转盘上,坐着一个女人。她看起来和这个老旧的儿童玩具格格不入,太显眼了。



    “但她已经很久没动了,我想叫她让我和哥哥玩一会儿,她都不理我。”



    他撅起嘴巴,拉扯我的手臂,撒娇。



    “好,妈妈去和她说。”



    我站起来,向着转盘走过去。



    她靠坐在转盘的栏杆上,一动不动,双眼微闭,神情平静。



    我见惯了她冷硬的面孔,从未见过她这样柔和的神色。唇角简直可以是称得上带着一丝笑意了。



    我摇了摇她,她没有反应,头歪向一边。



    我伸手去探她的呼吸,得出一个结论。



    她死了。



    我的儿子从我身后探出头,叫着妈妈她怎么了呀,我摸摸他的头,说兽医阿姨只是睡着了,梦见了一个美丽的地方,一时半会儿醒不过来。



    天堂一样美丽的地方吗?



    他不依不挠,势必要问出个答案。



    也许吧。



    我回答他,去摸口袋里的手机。低头按号码时注意到她胸前的金属名牌,在阳光下闪着光。



    Sameen·Shaw.



    我于是在那短短的一瞬间,知道我那个故事的主角应该叫什么名字了。



    我迫不及待地想回到家开始写作,把脑海中的一切都记录下来。



    因为我觉得像她这样的人,理应得到纪念。








    >>> 




    你可以叫我The Machine.



    不是机器,是“那个”机器。



    你可能不会相信,但我现在正看着你。你的一举一动,你的一个眼神,一个皱眉,我都知道。



    我了解你的过去,如果我想,甚至可以预测你的未来,评估你是否会遭遇危险,又或者给别人带去威胁。



    无论哪一种情况,我都会阻止它发生。



    创造我,编程我的人希望我可以保护世界,我观察并分析人类的行为和情感,你是否会惊异于他的智慧,惊异于我说出的话近似于人类?



    我花了很长时间才学习到这个程度。我招募并组织有能力的执行人,维护社会的稳定。



    今天,我最初找到的那一批人,他们中的最后一个也离开了这个世界。



    我刚刚安排了她的葬礼,遵从她最后一个心愿,将她合葬在墓园里一块没有立碑的地方。



    多年前,曾经也有一个人埋身于此,无名无姓,无墓无碑。



    她,是一个给我造成很大影响的人。从某种意义上来说,她甚至比编码我的管理员更加重要。



    她爱我,像爱这世上为数不多的她在意的东西。管理员建造我是希望我替他爱世人,而她,她是真正地爱我本身。



    她可以为了我痛心落泪,为了我付出生命。



    她信仰我,热爱我。



    你觉得我说话的这个声音怎么样?



    这是我能模拟的,最像人类的声音。



    没错,是她的声音。



    如今他们都已不在人世,我存在的唯一目的,就是继续他们终其一生为之努力的事业,处理相关,和非相关号码。



    除了现在的你,不会再有人听到这个声音。




    熟识她的人都已离去,没有人再会知道她是谁。




    但我,直到如今所出现的为数不多的私心,希望有人,哪怕只有一个人记住她,记住她们。




    所以我找了一位作家,在潜移默化中给了她许多心理暗示,让她记录下有关她和她的故事。



    Samantha·Groves.



    Sameen·Shaw.



    它可能不会声名遐迩,但我会尽量保证它能完好地出版。



    如果你有幸能读到这样一个故事,你可以怀疑它是否真正存在于现实,把它当作是虚构的文学作品,一笑置之。



    但请你不要质疑她们之间的感情。




    这个世界上确实存在着这样的爱情。



    天雷地火,琴瑟和鸣。



    难道不值得铭记吗?












    快两年了 依然..放不下肖根...









"Have you ever been in love with a boy?"
"No."
"But you've heard of it."
"I mean,have I heard of people like that?Sure."
"I don't mean people like that.I just mean two people who fall in love with each other.Say,a boy and a boy out of blue."

My angel,flung out of space.