by Cunt Incognita (Kunda or Píča in Prague)
My mental health is a mess. I’m drinking way too much. Being drunk. Writing stuff on facebook. Losing memory. Worrying about my physical health. Just letting the days pass by. Being in a strange place feeling isolated lost and lonely. My mind is constantly there feeling the edges of these walls of silence. Hard and defensive edges, I search for the cracks, feel them with my fingers. That’s when I get to hear “Aggressive, Pushy”. The wall can’t see itself. And I can’t describe my reality. Saying: “I see a wall”, doesn’t make it any more real or visible for the one carrying and caring for the crackling armor. The energy spent on caring for every little protective stone – there to guard our precious secrets, there to hide the filth and dirt, as well as the beauty. Sometimes we don’t remember why the stone is there, and might make it even more reason to keep it in place – who knows what could emerge!
There are no right ways of pushing through. Touching the cracks can lead a wall to crumble. One crack closes up again, while another gets wider, allowing for some air to seep through. Breathing in and out. No more secrets.