Archive 501

Samiera Abou-Nasr
  1. hello, from inside the rooms
  2. This Little Dream of Mine
  3. Songs of Synthesis

Sebastian Callaway
  1. this is how I bury my dead TNs
  2. Re:incarnation
  3. If you give a mouse an electrical wire…

Gemma Campbell
  1. Living Things
  2. Nothing exists at 2am
  3. Blythe

Malik Crumpler
  1. Hyperphantasia

Lillian Davies
  1. An Elliptical Path 
  1. Alive and Undecided
  2. Speed of Light

Mariana Folache
  1. Sitting in a Tin Can I
  2. Sitting in a Tin Can II
  3. Sitting in a Tin Can III
  4. The futility of my existence without your smile
  5. Ida is scared of silence

Vivian Galván García
  1. The Imposter
  2. I Lost The Moon
  3. I Am You I Suppose

David Kaziro
  1. Mediocrity
  2. GOLDEN SPEEDO MAN
  3. A CHAOTIC THEORY

mer L
  1. Today
  2. Cyclical Nature

Lya Vengerik
  1. A 2006 Motorola Razr Flip Phone
  2. Messages
  3. I am on a quest to reach the sun


About Archive 501

The futility of my existence without your smile

By Mariana Folache

Choose life, open your eyes, breathe, cry.  *snip, snip*

Grow up, study, have at least 5 existential crisis before you turn 25. 
Fall in love, choose a job, choose a career, choose the big fucking television, choose the washing machines; and cars and all. 
And BAM.
But that’s just the sound of life happening to you.

And apparently if you don’t react fast enough, you’ll always have the feeling that you missed a bus that just passes once. Always questioning yourself and filling your heads with “what ifs”
But actually WHAT IF?
What if I don’t actually care? What if I’m just tired? What if everything hurts? What if I don’t find love, what if I don’t choose a job or a career or the big fucking television?
What if I am not enough?
What if I can’t?

And I can’t even start to think of the why’s. My head is flooding with Ws. Sometimes I wish I could pull the plug, let the bath empty itself slowly, allowing the pressure to stop, and breathe and cry like at the beginning. 
Just being, existing without having to think, quiet.

And then I remember your smile, and try to remember how it made me feel: special and warm. For you know how much a smile can make u feverish, skin scalding from just a small smirk. And yours was the most delightful, with your little crooked fang and that dimple on the right. A smile that makes you feel empty yet at home. And what a home, the kind where you’ll find the washing machine and cars and the big fucking tv. A smile that made me  imagine that was my home, there i was sitting on that couch with you and your smile.

But your gone and no one has your smile.
And I’m tired and I’m alone.
And I just can’t anymore.