link: Hedi Slimane Diary
Yes, I have.
I have feelings.
Just that I never talk about this kind of things.
Whatever comes out of my mouth is nothing but silliness.
They are things that I can't express verbally with words.
Then the problem is.
I can't sing and I have given up piano.
To be precise, piano gave up on me.
I can't draw. Lack the patient.
And I am a person who is extremely afraid of written words.
They betrayed the first 20 or so years of my life.
And I doubt I will ever have the courage to open up to another person with written words.
If only I can visualize what you see in your dreams.
But every time, we run away when it comes to that corner.
I do what I can to protect myself.
I bet you do so to protect me.
Safety pins are there to hold the two tear-up pieces together.
No matter how safe they are, they still needle through my flesh.
I can't go on.
It's not about happiness.
More about meaningless.
The inevitable emptiness remains with the eternal changes through time.
Oh, off topic.
I wish I can take photographs like Hedi Slimane.
Because of the beauty.