Guest blogger: Gianfranco Reyes | I'm drowning here, and you are describing the water.

You know that pain? The pain of heartbreak, loneliness, melancholia? The one that punches you in the stomach with no remorse? Have you felt that pain?

3.JPG


When you are at the nexus of a mental, self manufactured black hole and theres no scape. When its hard to see the light, and your heart is completely frozen. When you're screaming at the top of your lungs for help but no one is listening, no one is there, and you almost feel like no sound is coming out from your vocal cords. When you see a painting full of color but only focus on the gray and the black. The loneliness.


"Fashion is my life, fashion is my life" I keep telling myself, but it doesn't help. The clothes hanging from my closet are still, with no soul. The only words that I can think of are "I'm alone". It only got darker and colder as the night went by and my apartment got smaller and smaller as I kept thinking on how to make the tears stop. I thought about sleeping but I was terrified of waking up, I didn't want to wake up. Petrified by the feeling of surviving the night I asked myself "what do I want from life?"


Do I want to spend my life dwelling on my layers of complex personalities? mourning like death the feeling of loneliness? I'm half naked wearing black sheer fabric draped across my body, like a Greek statue of Apollo Belvedere, and I can see my stoic personality reflected in every mirror I walk by, being washed away by the fear of having to sustain my morbid ideas wrestling with each other to create a tension that runs through my veins every damn second that I breathe. 
Why do I need to feel something so painful and heartbreakingly strong in order for me to create something so beautiful?
Well, to be an artist is to feel pain and suffer.
I assume. 

Guest blogger Gianfranco Reyes. Peruvian-Angeleno sartorialist talks about his musings with gender bending, art, fashion, and his own turmoil. Check out his amazing blog here. All photos by @valdonicholas