Veronika Obviate's photostream

When you are a child.. you have dreams.
Wether you wanna be an astronaut or a dancer, a doctor or a teacher... you treasure 'em in a well hidden place, a place where only you can be and you think it's safe. A place where noone can enter let alone taking an unwanted look.
These dreams grow up with you, change shape, color, destination. But they never cease to exist.. they are what you are. They are what you feel, breathe and paint. They are your everyday life's bricks.

However, sometimes there is a hole. A small and fragile hole that you care to cover and hide from everyone, just to let it be seen from the ones you trust and love.

One day, a shadow came down from the sky. It was brighter and smiling, you didn't even realize it was a shadow until it was too late. Too late to stop it. Too late to react. Too late to even understand its darkness was flooding inside your own self, permeating that small room and destroying all of those dreams.

One by one.

One
after
anoter.

So you hope in a solution. But the pain is unbearable, that place wasn't meant to be violated! It was your most intimate secret. Exposed and broken.
And you end up going on. With a bursting bullet in your chest, that reminds you something is gone the wrong way and.. your just too scared and hurt.. you don't even realize the true meaning of all this.

Days pass by.
Years pass by.

Those dreams would be a reality now.. but you've morphed into an automa. Something that exists, but doesn't live.
A butterfly without wings. And your little cosy place is now a decaying plastic bag, trapping your mutilated true self in an endless reconstructing effort. It's trying to repair that horrible scar but it's too deep, too painful and it keeps bleeding and you don't know how to stop it because you don't even remember how it got to be there, you just remember the little cosy home... that is there no more.

You start collecting broken tapes, pretending to fix everything else with some cellotape and stitches but you see those decaying empty walls almost everywhere.. not even knowing the reason why.
And you say yourself "Hey.. haha. What a weirdo am I...?"

Another decade. Millions and millions of minutes. The inner child that you struggled so hard to forget and forgive just cannot hide anymore.
She is hurt. She is angry. She's been trapped for so many years she can't even remember. And she thinks it's time to put an end to all of this. And get out from that so-well-planned personal torture chamber.

So... you suddenly realize those abandoned places you loved so much.. where nothing else than a whispering echo of your own soul.
And you forgive yourself.

You finally open those eyes, the real ones.
And looking the shadow in the eyes you tell him : "It's all your fault, not mine. I may be broken, but I'm still alive. You died the minute you touched me."

.

Farewell.

Mistka is a ray of light. She's the sweet and clever friend I can always have fun with, no matter what. Able to dress like a killer and then smile at you and go "nya" in a matter of seconds. We've created many silly images together, along with her unmissable bycicle and my neverending lust for pizza (hhihi)... I simply cannot imagine my SL without her, it would be ...sad.

One day I woke up and found a lovely "hello, remember i'm here for you": this is my way to tell you that.. I'm here as well.

You are one of the craziest and funniest people I've ever met in my second life and I'm proud to be among your friends. Even if we don't see each other that often, you are precious to me. Very.

oh and btw... where the hell is my pizza?!?!?! X°°°D

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Misty gave me two songs for her portrait, I'm sorry they're italian only.

I choose this one because I can kinda feel it, there's a few words I really like.

Laura Pausini feat. James Blunt - "Primavera in anticipo"

www.youtube.com/watch?v=KhISOeTD3-w

"Fiori... che nascono dai rovi ...
qui fuori cicatrizzano... gli errori miei"
("Flowers blooming from thorns.. here they're healing all my errors")

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model: Mistka Straaf

www.youtube.com/watch?v=8vWYTQx1Zl0

They pull our strings
The animals
They blind, they breed the hate
Under their wing
We’re (scientist-?)
We swallow what they think

For all you lonely boys
I will be president
In all you sons of men
I can be accident

Most fall in line
They do the dance
And salute the safest thing
Bought with their lives
Cry and socialize
And throw all the beauty away.

IAMX - "President"

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model: me
place: Immersiva
------

www.youtube.com/watch?v=VrpGhEVyrk0

Everything, everything, everything, everything
In its right place
In its right place
In its right place
In its right place

Yesterday I woke up sucking a lemon
Yesterday I woke up sucking a lemon
Yesterday I woke up sucking a lemon
Yesterday I woke up sucking a lemon

Everything, everything, everything
In its right place
In its right place
In its right place
Right place

There are two colours in my head
There are two colours in my head
What, what is that you try to say?
What, what was that you tried to say?

Tried to say... tried to say...
Tried to say... tried to say...

Everything, everything, everything, everything

RADIOHEAD - "Everything in its right place"

........
model: me

[...]Everybody's someone else's freak,
Every cure is someone else's disease,
White suburb impressionism

Never argue with these idiots
They drag you down to their level and beat you with ignorance
Am i through? i haven't even started
I can't see the point in the sense you were born with

Everybody's someone else's freak,
Every cure is someone else's disease,
White suburb impressionism

Call me when the whole regression's complete
I'll take you on a piece at a time
And i'll take you on.
IAMX - "White suburb impressionism"

www.youtube.com/watch?v=A5FSBOdN1YY

..whenever I think it's over, it all starts again.
..whenever I think I'm done with it, it all starts again.
..whenever I think I've dealt with it, it all starts again.
..whenever I think I'm ready, I am not.
..whenwver I think it's okay, it is not.
..whenever I think I can forget, I can not.
..whenever I think I am free, I am not.
..whenever I think I know, I do not.
..whenever I think I am tired... it all ends up like this. Caos.
..I wish I was able to do just like this. Letting myself go. Letting every single thing go.
But I am not able to. And it hurts. But most of all makes me very pissed off.

...

.....Does anyone have a valve?

Thank you.

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model: me
place: it doesn't matter.
reason: I'm not feeling well.