Artlexicons

Photography/Blog Article Written by Karla M.Cortes With Freelancing boom, comes new avenues The US has experienced a freelancing boom within the past five years with over 57million Americans doing freelance work. Freelancing encompasses a variety of industries that range from construction to writing. Yet there is one freelancing field that constantly gets looked over in the writing industry. That field is proofreading. With every great book comes an even greater proofreader. The person behind the scenes, making sure every comma, word, and phrase is properly conveyed and emphasized for the reader’s experience is much more needed than you’d think. In short, there is and will always be a market for proofreaders.

Twenty years ago, without the will of anyone wanting me to come to life, I was born. I, who now stares into the deep abyss of the universe unafraid but still gets scared while looking at my own reflection. I, who shouts out her mad glory in the face of the world and everyone in it am so disheartened by my own silence that I forget to recognize my own voice. I, who buzzes like a maniac spreading energy to even the saddest souls am so tired today that it is hard to keep on breathing every second.

I watched my life as if it were happening to someone else. I did not live it. All the mess I created, unleashing my chaotic mind upon the tangent of relations so carefully accepted, weaved, built upon by myself; the things and people I moved away from, distancing myself, leaving behind just scrapes of memories more unhappy than not, I wonder if someone ever did that to me what would I think of them? But I don’t. As empathic as I feel towards someone’s death or a child crying for his mother, I don’t for those closest to me and what agonies I relay upon them through my words, actions or indifference. They get masked by the self-centeredness and then I wonder, why they all leave in the end. And then I complain and yell and shut myself again to never step out of the cage I crafted with my own essence of being. But this tender part of me, with its mischievous curiosities and desires, reaches out yet again to another broken soul. I wonder if I can make you whole again. I never think I’

When that bubble of happiness bursts, you'll see the sprinkles spread miles wide. It is like the hollowness inside you starts to expand and slowly you are crumbling from the inside. Who can help you when your enemy is yourself? The hardest battle to fight is the one where the world can't see the fight. It happens with you, within you and there's no surrender. First, the physical exterior starts to break off. The thing that made you feel strong, always, is now working against you. You see your defences weakening. Without your body, your mind starts giving up and you lose before it had even begun. All the walls you create, the barriers to your head, the pillars supporting every thought you've ever had, the place that hides behind lock and key and the monsters lurking behind it, they come out to play. To taunt you and tease you, to see you fall as they appease you. No struggle, no thrashing, it goes swiftly in denial. All the work you did to make you wh

When they taught me I could no longer speak, I started screaming like it was the end of the world and my silence would cause it. As my voice and my will shook, the hands extended themselves, placing cold fingertips on my throat to choke me but the strength it took to just keep standing overtook me and hope, I would always say, was a bitch but in that utter helpless moment, I decided that so was I. My hands have been tied by those trying to find a better use of it but my writings bled through the zip tie flowing poetry all over their cold hard floors. My legs buckle under the pressure of a lonely room with nothing but 200 books to keep me sane for a week but Sundays have never been my favourite and the more I read and inhaled the words too strong for me to understand, the weaker I became at the hands of those who wrote it. So, I took off the pages of a novel and swallowed them whole until I puked literature and characters drowned like dreams in my eyes. I AM a marvellous critic

Hello everyone. Artlexicons means the language of art. As an aesthete, I tend to find beauty in everything but my standards of beauty are much different than the world. I don't find beauty in colours, I find them in shades of blacks and grey. Similarly, this blog will not only be filled with popular art but all sorts of reminiscent thoughts about the world.  It may include poetry but also suggestions for better TV Series and books. I might choose to bare my heart out in the form of a letter to a stranger or impart knowledge upon you through Mass Communication studies. Stay Tuned and you'll never know what new surprises I might bring.  Connect with me through my social media profiles: Gmail Facebook Goodreads Tumblr Instagram