It's like world ablaze while completely fireproof.
I do my best, I try to conceal that there is a war being waged inside. My brain has lost its mind. It's gone nuts, and my sanity has all but squirreled its way out of here. I've long been unstable, that is no breaking news, but there was some sort of balance in place, something helped keep me straight on the dangling tightrope. But something might have been building up, and the bad seems to have taken over. I've had bad night terrors, and I don't mean the ones you come across when you're sleeping. It's like the devil and god are raging inside, except we're just talking about a fallen angel and a sneaky imp. I feel trapped, because I miss things I was not used to be lacking. Goals, someone to look up to, something to look for, someone to look after; but look, these are just empty boxes right now. I know why I've kept chasing girls since I started feeling alive: to distract me from the fact that I was not. I have exceeded the point where it can be beneficial to use self-deprecation. It's become a motto, it's engraved in me. I'm never good enough, I am bloodthirsty for strength, progress, power; many abstract notions that do not even make sense to me. Yet I long for them, hoping that they will carry me to the stars. They're just so far away, and the closer I seem to get, the more the path seems to close. So I just put on a smile and get by, I do my best to transform into a puddle of myself in society, or what I think is a puddle of me, since I don't really know what either me or myself refers to - a set of feelings, emotions, behaviors, endeavors? I hold the belief that I am a reflection of the people surrounding me. I don't think I've ever been someone so to speak. I wasn't born bland, I was born flawed, but with nothing to cover the wrong. I never took away, but I took after who I deemed fit, friends, family, one-time acquaintances even to scratch away the paltry wallpaper and smother the flaws with thick layers of betterness. But the bitterness stuck, and I still don't know why, still don't know what is wrong with me. But I seemed to deal just fine. I still think I do, the episodes just are more common these days. Maybe it's what they call growing up. And while I certainly feel like I am still growing, I am growing still. And as a reflection of the people I've loved, I try all the combinations, but often come short. Something is not here, something is missing, something that would allow me to bust out of this prison of mine and take on the darkness. Because I can keep on keeping it on a tight leash for as long as I want, it's not gonna get rid of it. There has to be something here that would up the ante and still let me reach for it without pushing the sky farther away. And now that my brain has committed suicide and my heart has worked itself to death, it seems that only my guts are left.
And I'm not sure they're gonna have the guts to do that on their own.
Every time I try to write sang words, it feels wrong.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x4uyXUB4PHo
Sunday, January 31, 2016
Thursday, January 7, 2016
Pent-up
When exactly did I lower my head, leave the little thing on the ground, and resume walking?
Well, somewhere around last summer, maybe? I don't really have any recollection of that event.
But I mean, I had to right? Poor thing was not working anyway. I tried to fix it, for like, ever; it just would not mend. It kept failing and I kept idling part of my life away. Ok that might be a bit of an overstatement, but still. I could not get it to function, and it's not like those things are commonplace in the open. I'm not a surgeon. I tried to act like I was, but I clearly don't have the skillset. So yeah, well I figured, I just need the part that pumps blood to go on with my days so might as well not bother with the rest. Once again, it was to never work again, so... My brain actually can pull a hell of a copycat. It looks pretty darn similar, but it does not nearly feel so.
Well at least now I don't really have to worry anymore about all that shit.
Doesn't it feel a bit like giving up though?
Oh yeah no I remember now, it was not last summer. Yeah no, my bad.
You came back and well, oh boy, was it unexpected.
Let me clarify this: Along the way of all these peculiar and often unfruitful tales, I've always attempted to capture a few tidbits. To put it in a fun way, it's like when you go to the Safari Zone. You've been allowed some time in it, but when you know time is running out and you failed at capturing this super rad Pokémon yet once more, well you still don't want to go out empty-handed, so you try to catch a smaller fish. In my case, that would be my Magikarp collection.
When you look at it more closely and rationally however, you might just be able to see an old, dusty trophy cabinet with an excess of consolation prizes. But until a few weeks back there was still a pair of items that kind of stood out: a huge cup, right in the middle that obviously had been tampered with -it was kept perfectly clean in some places, but was terribly damaged in others. The contrast was, well, flustering. The other item was, in its own way, even more subject to catching the eye. It was smaller, yet arguably kept on ice and preserved for many more years to an amazing degree of perfection. It also had a couple other unique characteristics to it.
Well, not anymore.
Seeing Emma was, indeed, beneficial. But not right away.
Then you came back to me, and I realized, well, too litle too late, I don't love you anymore, and I don't love Emma anymore either. The two girls that were to remains the loves of my life had just become, in fact, heart memories. It was not vivid anymore, it was not beating for them.
What a waste.
At this point, well, yeah, I decided to get rid of my old dysfunctional - my apologies, not-the-least-functional-in-the-world feeling box.
That's crazy. If I could go back to the kid I was and I were to tell him that I would, at that point, refuse something I would have most definitely been willing to die for - multiple times if necessary -, I think it would not compute. "No way, I couldn't ever do that, whatever, wherever, whenever". Well, you would not be entirely wrong buddy. I mean, you could never have done that. I did.
I swore I'd never chang, and I lied - sort of. I've said it before, I HAD to adapt. I'm not immune to survival of the fittest. And now, well, I'm not that same person anymore.
And I am pretty much sure that I am the one who couldn't care less about it.
You are not beyond salvation though. At the end of the day, anger, hatred, anguish, despair, all that does not deprive you from hope. Fatigue does. You don't self-destruct from those negative feelings. In fact, they are not contradictory to any positive thought. They might even be a good way to channel enough energy into them, if you are good enough of a chemist. You don't even really lose hope at all if you manage to stay alive - because that's the thing, if you had lost hope, you'd not be here anymore anyways. But if you're unlucky enough, at some point, you just realize that you're doing ok without it, and what it brings you is just a conniving chatty sidekick who's way too loud. Navi, anyone?
So you dispose of it. And when you see the light and get out of the well, well, you think you're doing well by yourself. And I was. I am. Ok, if not well then at least as good as before. But that's beyond the point.
But you can't go retrieve it. And then you come to your senses and realize that, snap, that was it. THAT was the little thing that kept the feeling box going.
Too bad now though, because it's nowhere to be found. You have to make do.
So no, you, most people, they are not beyond salvation.There is no such thing as beyond salvation, everybody alive just has a fundamental right to run towards love. That's just, my map's buried in the trash.
And truth be told, I could still easily enter the crowd and follow in the same direction, but I really don't feel like it.
I'm good with my own lonely way, even if I hate this sensation of resignation. But eh, I'll just shrug my love life away. It seems appropriate.
I am not that stupid, I have met many girls, I know some who would be willing to love me if I let them, I know many who would be willing to love me if they let themselves.
They're not my answer.
Nobody is anymore.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RHhkd2B87Q8
Well, somewhere around last summer, maybe? I don't really have any recollection of that event.
But I mean, I had to right? Poor thing was not working anyway. I tried to fix it, for like, ever; it just would not mend. It kept failing and I kept idling part of my life away. Ok that might be a bit of an overstatement, but still. I could not get it to function, and it's not like those things are commonplace in the open. I'm not a surgeon. I tried to act like I was, but I clearly don't have the skillset. So yeah, well I figured, I just need the part that pumps blood to go on with my days so might as well not bother with the rest. Once again, it was to never work again, so... My brain actually can pull a hell of a copycat. It looks pretty darn similar, but it does not nearly feel so.
Well at least now I don't really have to worry anymore about all that shit.
Doesn't it feel a bit like giving up though?
Oh yeah no I remember now, it was not last summer. Yeah no, my bad.
You came back and well, oh boy, was it unexpected.
Let me clarify this: Along the way of all these peculiar and often unfruitful tales, I've always attempted to capture a few tidbits. To put it in a fun way, it's like when you go to the Safari Zone. You've been allowed some time in it, but when you know time is running out and you failed at capturing this super rad Pokémon yet once more, well you still don't want to go out empty-handed, so you try to catch a smaller fish. In my case, that would be my Magikarp collection.
When you look at it more closely and rationally however, you might just be able to see an old, dusty trophy cabinet with an excess of consolation prizes. But until a few weeks back there was still a pair of items that kind of stood out: a huge cup, right in the middle that obviously had been tampered with -it was kept perfectly clean in some places, but was terribly damaged in others. The contrast was, well, flustering. The other item was, in its own way, even more subject to catching the eye. It was smaller, yet arguably kept on ice and preserved for many more years to an amazing degree of perfection. It also had a couple other unique characteristics to it.
Well, not anymore.
Seeing Emma was, indeed, beneficial. But not right away.
Then you came back to me, and I realized, well, too litle too late, I don't love you anymore, and I don't love Emma anymore either. The two girls that were to remains the loves of my life had just become, in fact, heart memories. It was not vivid anymore, it was not beating for them.
What a waste.
At this point, well, yeah, I decided to get rid of my old dysfunctional - my apologies, not-the-least-functional-in-the-world feeling box.
That's crazy. If I could go back to the kid I was and I were to tell him that I would, at that point, refuse something I would have most definitely been willing to die for - multiple times if necessary -, I think it would not compute. "No way, I couldn't ever do that, whatever, wherever, whenever". Well, you would not be entirely wrong buddy. I mean, you could never have done that. I did.
I swore I'd never chang, and I lied - sort of. I've said it before, I HAD to adapt. I'm not immune to survival of the fittest. And now, well, I'm not that same person anymore.
And I am pretty much sure that I am the one who couldn't care less about it.
You are not beyond salvation though. At the end of the day, anger, hatred, anguish, despair, all that does not deprive you from hope. Fatigue does. You don't self-destruct from those negative feelings. In fact, they are not contradictory to any positive thought. They might even be a good way to channel enough energy into them, if you are good enough of a chemist. You don't even really lose hope at all if you manage to stay alive - because that's the thing, if you had lost hope, you'd not be here anymore anyways. But if you're unlucky enough, at some point, you just realize that you're doing ok without it, and what it brings you is just a conniving chatty sidekick who's way too loud. Navi, anyone?
So you dispose of it. And when you see the light and get out of the well, well, you think you're doing well by yourself. And I was. I am. Ok, if not well then at least as good as before. But that's beyond the point.
But you can't go retrieve it. And then you come to your senses and realize that, snap, that was it. THAT was the little thing that kept the feeling box going.
Too bad now though, because it's nowhere to be found. You have to make do.
So no, you, most people, they are not beyond salvation.There is no such thing as beyond salvation, everybody alive just has a fundamental right to run towards love. That's just, my map's buried in the trash.
And truth be told, I could still easily enter the crowd and follow in the same direction, but I really don't feel like it.
I'm good with my own lonely way, even if I hate this sensation of resignation. But eh, I'll just shrug my love life away. It seems appropriate.
I am not that stupid, I have met many girls, I know some who would be willing to love me if I let them, I know many who would be willing to love me if they let themselves.
They're not my answer.
Nobody is anymore.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RHhkd2B87Q8
Thursday, December 24, 2015
EGIC
There will be times the ride won't go as well as I wanted to, there is no changing that.
I hit a speed bump and was not given much time to get back on my feet. I was hit hard before I could fully come to my senses. And here I am, moving forward like a zombie, hurt, but these wounds wouldn't kill me. They are not nearly strong enough to compel me to reboot, hence I am but locked inside this uncomfortable state in which I go forward because I don't really know any other way but, truth be told, I suffered a couple of blows which slashed through and opened deep, profound cuts. They're not bleeding though. They won't rid of the poison, they remain infected. I don't feel good. I don't feel right.
I hate to disappoint myself.
I am needfully questioning, reconsidering, reassessing my calling, whether I fit. Whether I deserve to be where I am in the first place.
I had it coming I guess. I got a tad too sluggish in my house of cards, idling, looking down on whoever by fear of falling back down, heckling who I wanted not to be again. My pain had to be enough to sustain that authority. But I got thrown away from the throne. My paper crown isn't worth what I thought it was.
I'm not gonna say it's for the better. It's not.
But now that I'm back down where I started, it feels like all of it was for nothing. All of it has been for nothing. I am a fallen whatever, and it does not matter if it's climbing up there or going through the crowd,
I'm not going anywhere I feel like I belong.
I am not getting over it yet.
So I get work done to work myself down, I use the blades that attempted to lacerate my mind to cut the dangling limbs, knowing the whole thing is already contaminated. I've lived with venom running through my veins before. I can most definitely do it again. So I chop off what I feel failed, to take my mind off the fact that my mind is constantly self-inflicting contempt, undercutting what had préviously been established as viable parts of me. The view is blocked on some paths I was eager to follow. I am waiting for the blades to show me which way to clear out next, which ways to weed out.
I hold the belief that I will fall back and promptly be back on my feet. I will fall back on my feet. Unfortunately, I cannot get too acquainted with resignation and surrender. I will painstakingly look for the harbinger that would usher me onto my new road.
But for now, all I see are bad omens, unresolvable conundrums and unheralded catastrophes. This is how my mind shields itself, hoping for the worst. It is not very effective. It gets lonely in there, conviction-wise. Yet I keep trying, because it is what I have always done in my oxy-moronic existence; struggling to make something out of something I am not made for. I am attracted to what I hate, I secretely long for what I was denied. I am never on the same page with life. I never agree with what is supposed to have been decided from the get-go.
This is the burden of being hopelessly hopeful.
I am not really fine these days. I am just trying to find my way awkwardly through the life I chose against its will and that seems to remind me of it once in a while. The only thing that will show which one of us was right all along will be at the picket line. I am possibly headed towards a huge manhole for all I know, but maybe I'll get a shot at proving there is something good in that. Maybe there is something genuinely good. Maybe there is.
Let's slap the momentum across the face for a bit to see what happens.
Christmas is upon us, and yet when I look outside,
I see no snow.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RHhkd2B87Q8&list=PLalVktpBrfW2UvvpALP7yhw0YH2n-JSRw
I hit a speed bump and was not given much time to get back on my feet. I was hit hard before I could fully come to my senses. And here I am, moving forward like a zombie, hurt, but these wounds wouldn't kill me. They are not nearly strong enough to compel me to reboot, hence I am but locked inside this uncomfortable state in which I go forward because I don't really know any other way but, truth be told, I suffered a couple of blows which slashed through and opened deep, profound cuts. They're not bleeding though. They won't rid of the poison, they remain infected. I don't feel good. I don't feel right.
I hate to disappoint myself.
I am needfully questioning, reconsidering, reassessing my calling, whether I fit. Whether I deserve to be where I am in the first place.
I had it coming I guess. I got a tad too sluggish in my house of cards, idling, looking down on whoever by fear of falling back down, heckling who I wanted not to be again. My pain had to be enough to sustain that authority. But I got thrown away from the throne. My paper crown isn't worth what I thought it was.
I'm not gonna say it's for the better. It's not.
But now that I'm back down where I started, it feels like all of it was for nothing. All of it has been for nothing. I am a fallen whatever, and it does not matter if it's climbing up there or going through the crowd,
I'm not going anywhere I feel like I belong.
I am not getting over it yet.
So I get work done to work myself down, I use the blades that attempted to lacerate my mind to cut the dangling limbs, knowing the whole thing is already contaminated. I've lived with venom running through my veins before. I can most definitely do it again. So I chop off what I feel failed, to take my mind off the fact that my mind is constantly self-inflicting contempt, undercutting what had préviously been established as viable parts of me. The view is blocked on some paths I was eager to follow. I am waiting for the blades to show me which way to clear out next, which ways to weed out.
I hold the belief that I will fall back and promptly be back on my feet. I will fall back on my feet. Unfortunately, I cannot get too acquainted with resignation and surrender. I will painstakingly look for the harbinger that would usher me onto my new road.
But for now, all I see are bad omens, unresolvable conundrums and unheralded catastrophes. This is how my mind shields itself, hoping for the worst. It is not very effective. It gets lonely in there, conviction-wise. Yet I keep trying, because it is what I have always done in my oxy-moronic existence; struggling to make something out of something I am not made for. I am attracted to what I hate, I secretely long for what I was denied. I am never on the same page with life. I never agree with what is supposed to have been decided from the get-go.
This is the burden of being hopelessly hopeful.
I am not really fine these days. I am just trying to find my way awkwardly through the life I chose against its will and that seems to remind me of it once in a while. The only thing that will show which one of us was right all along will be at the picket line. I am possibly headed towards a huge manhole for all I know, but maybe I'll get a shot at proving there is something good in that. Maybe there is something genuinely good. Maybe there is.
Let's slap the momentum across the face for a bit to see what happens.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Christmas is upon us, and yet when I look outside,
I see no snow.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RHhkd2B87Q8&list=PLalVktpBrfW2UvvpALP7yhw0YH2n-JSRw
Tuesday, December 8, 2015
Citron pressé
What's up, buddy? I heard you were feeling down of late.
All your friends left for life, and you chose to stay here.
But by yourself.
And now you're questioning whether you were right or wrong.
Come on now, get your shit together. You know you did things right. You always do in the end.
You can't keep a good man down.
Life can't keep you down.
I mean, you know life has not always flown our way. Well actually, it'd be more accurate to say that it has quite a handful of times, but we failed to grab what it jettisoned on the trail. That's never been a big deal. At least that was not back then. You just get up, shrug it off and forget about it.
This is the warrior I know.
I guess it piled up, eh? It leaves dust on your shoulders each and every time. And now it's a bit too much for you do the heavy lifting. I get that.
But that's not you bro.
You are not the kind of person to give up. Sure, it's challenging to see people leave, one after the other. You wish you were as well, departing for somewhere on the path of destination life. And truth be told, it would be hypocritical of me to say I've been there. I'm always the one to go first, just so I can avoid being the one left behind.
I left you.
I don't regret it.
But I still feel guilty about it.
And I can get a grip of what you feel. Remorse or regret. Yet you had something, someone to stay for. You can't rewind.
Dude you're 23. And I know it's easy for me to say, because while not really having been places, I've had the chance to stop a couple of times along the ride. But you are. And life is waiting for you.
It really is.
You feel alone and I'm sorry about that. I am sorry because I have not been there for you. But I've been here for you.
I'm always in far away places, but I don't forget. You gave me 2 of my best years, almost all by yourself. You were not the most present when I collapsed, but you certainly were paramount in my recovery. You were my crutch, and so much more. And when I finally was healthy enough, I flew away. But you, my man, are a central piece in my life. You're family. You're a brother of mine.
I wouldn't be who I am today, and I would never have been able to achieve it all without you by my side. You've been my staple. And that's etched in my soul for lives.
And I can't stand knowing you're in a bad place.
I just wanna kick your ass the way you'd kick mine.
I'm thankful to you for countless things. We built memories together. Together. And you made me stronger, so much more than I could have become without you.
And I know, it's not a husk. I know beneath the surface you are feisty for existence; otherwise you wouldn't get hurt; not this way.
You're certainly more relentless than I could be in my worst days.
So fight back, mind-wrestle the shit out of this son of a bitch of a life. Cuz you definitely have a shot.
And you're not alone in this.
She loves you, and that is the only victory that conveys any meaning when weighing success against failure.
You did make the right choice.
Nobody's home, and that's gotta be a heartsore, but don't let the sinking feeling fill in; because before you'll know it;
I'll get there.
All your friends left for life, and you chose to stay here.
But by yourself.
And now you're questioning whether you were right or wrong.
Come on now, get your shit together. You know you did things right. You always do in the end.
You can't keep a good man down.
Life can't keep you down.
I mean, you know life has not always flown our way. Well actually, it'd be more accurate to say that it has quite a handful of times, but we failed to grab what it jettisoned on the trail. That's never been a big deal. At least that was not back then. You just get up, shrug it off and forget about it.
This is the warrior I know.
I guess it piled up, eh? It leaves dust on your shoulders each and every time. And now it's a bit too much for you do the heavy lifting. I get that.
But that's not you bro.
You are not the kind of person to give up. Sure, it's challenging to see people leave, one after the other. You wish you were as well, departing for somewhere on the path of destination life. And truth be told, it would be hypocritical of me to say I've been there. I'm always the one to go first, just so I can avoid being the one left behind.
I left you.
I don't regret it.
But I still feel guilty about it.
And I can get a grip of what you feel. Remorse or regret. Yet you had something, someone to stay for. You can't rewind.
Dude you're 23. And I know it's easy for me to say, because while not really having been places, I've had the chance to stop a couple of times along the ride. But you are. And life is waiting for you.
It really is.
You feel alone and I'm sorry about that. I am sorry because I have not been there for you. But I've been here for you.
I'm always in far away places, but I don't forget. You gave me 2 of my best years, almost all by yourself. You were not the most present when I collapsed, but you certainly were paramount in my recovery. You were my crutch, and so much more. And when I finally was healthy enough, I flew away. But you, my man, are a central piece in my life. You're family. You're a brother of mine.
I wouldn't be who I am today, and I would never have been able to achieve it all without you by my side. You've been my staple. And that's etched in my soul for lives.
And I can't stand knowing you're in a bad place.
I just wanna kick your ass the way you'd kick mine.
I'm thankful to you for countless things. We built memories together. Together. And you made me stronger, so much more than I could have become without you.
And I know, it's not a husk. I know beneath the surface you are feisty for existence; otherwise you wouldn't get hurt; not this way.
You're certainly more relentless than I could be in my worst days.
So fight back, mind-wrestle the shit out of this son of a bitch of a life. Cuz you definitely have a shot.
And you're not alone in this.
She loves you, and that is the only victory that conveys any meaning when weighing success against failure.
You did make the right choice.
Nobody's home, and that's gotta be a heartsore, but don't let the sinking feeling fill in; because before you'll know it;
I'll get there.
Monday, November 16, 2015
Does it bode well?
What the fuck just happened?
Wait, just, pause. Calm down. Let things sink in. Settle down. Yeah, that's better.
Nope, it definitely is not.
I've come to grips with my having a problem. One I need to solve. I mean, I used to be able to hide behind false excuses, pretending I was just a hapless dude, loitering around and always being struck with bad luck. It would work fine. But it's become increasingly difficult of late, as a couple of things started to change. For starters, the opportunities have multiplied. Like, for real. Also, shit's gotten real. It's become downright impossible to ignore the fact that I am the one squandering my love interests . Things are headed towards a binary state, and I am the sole decider of the yes or no. There is no hint of subtlety under which I can take shelter. In my castle of glass, I no longer am the frail king. I am the unmasked jester.
No more capable of concealing the utmost deception - and let's be honest here, I was the most amenable target the whole time - I admitted to others that I, indeed, have been avoiding the problem for too long. The harshest was to admit it to myself.
But what then? I mean, all's good and well but I've long known the inconvenient repercussions of a wicked and damaged mind. I am self-loathing, my ego is in tatters day in and day out. To be fair, both these drawbacks have been, in numerous instances, real pull-ups; unexpectedly fueling a new sense of purpose. But now that my purpose is of age, it is time for you to go; for it is becoming difficult to fathom any kind of viable future with you by the side of the one that would be by my side.
But I digress.
What does it stem from? Come on, it's pretty obvious isn't it?
You know it's with her.
Two years, seven months. That's the time we lasted. That's also the time I've been lasting without we. I had to make good by the milestone. Maybe was it time to conquer the answers I've always been longing for. I should be strong enough by now.
I think I am.
And so I went.
And before I knew it, I was seeing you.
Shit, what did I just do? Is it for real? Why has nothing changed? Am I dreaming? No. Am I freaking out? No. Chillax. Take a deep breath. No, don't take it. Ah, whatever, just go with the flow.
I decided to sail against the stream, because it's high time I started taking chances when it matters most.
So I did.
We said "weird" 6 times. You twice as much as I did. Irrelevant little tidbit. But it was, weird. Especially for my brain. The part of it that never had been able to let you go, to let go of your image; my lost brain as I will call it; was relieved. I felt it. Weird, eh? Feeling your brain. What was disturbing though was the uncanny familiarity of the whole scene. You haven't changed much. You sound the same. The exact same for fuck's sake, like, the most logical thing was perhaps the most shocking one. You look the same, and that's pretty unsettling. The setup was the same, the background identical.
Hence the unpredictable reaction of my lost brain. It snapped. Something flipped.
Back to normal.
Wait, what?
This ain't normal, this is bullshit. But there I was seeing you, and somewhere shallow up, I was like "Yeah, so what? We always see each other at night." I was thrust back a plethora of moments ago, and my lost brain engulfed the stretch of time that had built me in your absence. I would have been ill-advised to give in, that's a given. But it is hard fighting such happiness.
In front of my eyes, somewhere in my head - and, very certainly, in my heart -, you were just here, and it was perfectly ok. Like I had just woken up from an extended sleep and I was recovering my kindred soul.
Come again?
Come on man, it's not how things are. Because she's moved on, and so has she. Get a grip.
And so we started.
After the initial awkwardness, it was nice. It was good. I did not feel resentment. I still had to fight the lost brain to prevent it from swallowing me and burying me into the hole I escaped a few years ago. I managed.
Am I currently managing?
I don't know.
I know I gambled. But I was dealt plenty of good cards, and wasted them over nothing, blaming the stigma. Now I was left with a small pair and the flop was not great, but it was either that or folding.
I said let's go all in.
I' now waiting for the fourth card to be revealed.
Anyways, let's not fool ourselves. This move was not reckless.
When you have nothing, you can't really lose much.
I can't go into specifics yet. I have yet to muster the courage to realize what happened and cope with the oh so unpleasant consequences of my actions. But if I played my hand right -and I can only hope I did- it might assuage the demon inside and help me tame the motherfucker once and for all.
And from there, I can maybe go somewhere.
Dude, what an outlandish encounter. I kid you not, I was on the brink of having a me attack.
I appreciate your wanting to get my house in order. You wanna get out of the doghouse, I get it. I respect that. But for REAL? I don't really know what you thought about trying to get her into my house, but oh boy, if this wasn't bold I don't know what is. Whatever man, your little bro was wise enough to keep her on the threshold. I can't even imagine how much damage she would have been able to cause inside. Like, come on, I've barely finished redecorating the place.
Anyways, I can see you're out of the angry teenager phase, and that's good. But that doesn't mean you can use my spare key yet. Thank god for your brother, if he weren't watching you we would be in SUCH a pickle currently. So yeah, get your shit together man.
Cause I'm not ready to move out just yet.
From celibacy with love;
Heart.
Wait, just, pause. Calm down. Let things sink in. Settle down. Yeah, that's better.
Nope, it definitely is not.
I've come to grips with my having a problem. One I need to solve. I mean, I used to be able to hide behind false excuses, pretending I was just a hapless dude, loitering around and always being struck with bad luck. It would work fine. But it's become increasingly difficult of late, as a couple of things started to change. For starters, the opportunities have multiplied. Like, for real. Also, shit's gotten real. It's become downright impossible to ignore the fact that I am the one squandering my love interests . Things are headed towards a binary state, and I am the sole decider of the yes or no. There is no hint of subtlety under which I can take shelter. In my castle of glass, I no longer am the frail king. I am the unmasked jester.
No more capable of concealing the utmost deception - and let's be honest here, I was the most amenable target the whole time - I admitted to others that I, indeed, have been avoiding the problem for too long. The harshest was to admit it to myself.
But what then? I mean, all's good and well but I've long known the inconvenient repercussions of a wicked and damaged mind. I am self-loathing, my ego is in tatters day in and day out. To be fair, both these drawbacks have been, in numerous instances, real pull-ups; unexpectedly fueling a new sense of purpose. But now that my purpose is of age, it is time for you to go; for it is becoming difficult to fathom any kind of viable future with you by the side of the one that would be by my side.
But I digress.
What does it stem from? Come on, it's pretty obvious isn't it?
You know it's with her.
Two years, seven months. That's the time we lasted. That's also the time I've been lasting without we. I had to make good by the milestone. Maybe was it time to conquer the answers I've always been longing for. I should be strong enough by now.
I think I am.
And so I went.
And before I knew it, I was seeing you.
Shit, what did I just do? Is it for real? Why has nothing changed? Am I dreaming? No. Am I freaking out? No. Chillax. Take a deep breath. No, don't take it. Ah, whatever, just go with the flow.
I decided to sail against the stream, because it's high time I started taking chances when it matters most.
So I did.
We said "weird" 6 times. You twice as much as I did. Irrelevant little tidbit. But it was, weird. Especially for my brain. The part of it that never had been able to let you go, to let go of your image; my lost brain as I will call it; was relieved. I felt it. Weird, eh? Feeling your brain. What was disturbing though was the uncanny familiarity of the whole scene. You haven't changed much. You sound the same. The exact same for fuck's sake, like, the most logical thing was perhaps the most shocking one. You look the same, and that's pretty unsettling. The setup was the same, the background identical.
Hence the unpredictable reaction of my lost brain. It snapped. Something flipped.
Back to normal.
Wait, what?
This ain't normal, this is bullshit. But there I was seeing you, and somewhere shallow up, I was like "Yeah, so what? We always see each other at night." I was thrust back a plethora of moments ago, and my lost brain engulfed the stretch of time that had built me in your absence. I would have been ill-advised to give in, that's a given. But it is hard fighting such happiness.
In front of my eyes, somewhere in my head - and, very certainly, in my heart -, you were just here, and it was perfectly ok. Like I had just woken up from an extended sleep and I was recovering my kindred soul.
Come again?
Come on man, it's not how things are. Because she's moved on, and so has she. Get a grip.
And so we started.
After the initial awkwardness, it was nice. It was good. I did not feel resentment. I still had to fight the lost brain to prevent it from swallowing me and burying me into the hole I escaped a few years ago. I managed.
Am I currently managing?
I don't know.
I know I gambled. But I was dealt plenty of good cards, and wasted them over nothing, blaming the stigma. Now I was left with a small pair and the flop was not great, but it was either that or folding.
I said let's go all in.
I' now waiting for the fourth card to be revealed.
Anyways, let's not fool ourselves. This move was not reckless.
When you have nothing, you can't really lose much.
I can't go into specifics yet. I have yet to muster the courage to realize what happened and cope with the oh so unpleasant consequences of my actions. But if I played my hand right -and I can only hope I did- it might assuage the demon inside and help me tame the motherfucker once and for all.
And from there, I can maybe go somewhere.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Dude, what an outlandish encounter. I kid you not, I was on the brink of having a me attack.
I appreciate your wanting to get my house in order. You wanna get out of the doghouse, I get it. I respect that. But for REAL? I don't really know what you thought about trying to get her into my house, but oh boy, if this wasn't bold I don't know what is. Whatever man, your little bro was wise enough to keep her on the threshold. I can't even imagine how much damage she would have been able to cause inside. Like, come on, I've barely finished redecorating the place.
Anyways, I can see you're out of the angry teenager phase, and that's good. But that doesn't mean you can use my spare key yet. Thank god for your brother, if he weren't watching you we would be in SUCH a pickle currently. So yeah, get your shit together man.
Cause I'm not ready to move out just yet.
From celibacy with love;
Heart.
Sunday, November 15, 2015
Eagles of Death Metal
On l'empêchera jamais de tourner,
faut juste se résigner à bouger avec.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L4sa2HoXpsE
faut juste se résigner à bouger avec.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L4sa2HoXpsE
Wednesday, November 4, 2015
Wednesday night
Well it's pretty much the same as 2 weeks ago. But it's pretty dope, and I don't think I would give that up for anything else. Life's been good to me for almost too long.
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