Since the young days Perla had a problem of self-identity, as she had no associations and had confirmation of self-identity as a female.
Last few months were quite hard for Perla as well not only because identy problems, but as well because of oeverthinking, memories about Jaboc, who broke her / their heart completely... Perla has no clue why Jacob has left her / them...
Perla is not binary personality, not considering herself / themselves neither as a male or as a female. But mostly Perla would like to be a male.
Perla is often feeling a dissociation from her / their body. Perla is thinking that this body even does not belong to her / them.
Onutė Gaidamavičiūtė. Sewers of moonlight (created collaborating with AI)
Perla is reciting and reciting these MEHRO words:
Trapped in the sewers of my mind
Mad at the future in hindsight
Is it hopeless?
Is it broken?
Is it over?
The distance living between us is torture
Trapped in the sewers of my mind
The past hasn't passed me, it's by my side
And lately, I'm empty, killing time
And I keep walking down your street in my mind
Here’s a poetic-narrative evocation of dissociation from one’s own body - written when Art Nouveau reverie meets somniodelic dreamscape:
“The Body in Glass Bloom”
They stand in the mirror and the mirror opens like water.
Their reflection does not echo - it breathes.
Veins unfold into curling stems,
skin loosens into a shimmer of dew.
Every curve of them becomes ornament,
every breath a ribbon in the air.
They watch their body the way one watches
a bird fly out of a cage made of moonlight —
with wonder, with sorrow, with relief.
Their hair drift into the current of the wallpaper’s vines,
Their shoulders melt into the arches of a golden frame.
The room is a cathedral of lilac smoke
and their body, half-forgotten, kneels inside it like a statue.
They feel the pulse of herself somewhere above them —
a distant hum, soft as the memory of touch.
It hovers, a pale lantern, tracing light along the silhouette
of what they once called me.
And for a moment,
the separation is not pain but poetry —
the miracle of seeing themselves as art,
alive and unreachable,
Their spirit tangled in lilies,
Their lesh dreaming without them.
... such a poem created by Perla...
and Perla is thinking, that a singer NEMO is right... telling:
I find it hard
to fall in love
Maybe that’s because
There’s a big black hole
Where she once was
