Erutuf

I am looping.

I am displaying the same old little quirks. Jealousy, extra sensitivity and aggressiveness. They do not blend all that well. And you're the one suffering from my tantrums.

History is repeating itself before my very eyes, and I am clueless as to how to change its course. I have not learned shit, have I? I do not know the way to right the ship and change. My emotions get the best of me.

Every once in a while, I manage to put things into perspective, take some distance, from you, from an us I don't seem to be acquainted to yet. Is it normal by the way? Is it just me screwing up, or is it a natural process?
Anyways any time I can get a grasp of objectivity, you come at me feelings first and I fall back in. It is the grotesque oxymoron that defines our relationship on my side: the more you love me, the more likely I am to mess it all up.

But now for the first time you are disappointed. I unveiled that I am no different than anybody else. You realized that I am, in fact, nothing special. I guess it puts a pin in our plans now eh? If not a nail in their coffin.

I wanna try. I really do. But I need a magic formula to shake off three years of living inside my head;
And three other years I wish I had.
I am damaged good relationship-wise; and your perfection does not match my faults. We cannot go on like that, regardless of what you keep saying. Because I'm gonna burn myself up slowly, and burn you down in the process. There is going to be nothing but pain and regrets if I can't figure out how to overcome my fears.

I have always known, since the very beginning, that we had a clock and that it was ticking. For quite some tie I thought it was the clock of us, and I was fine-ish with that; but what if it is not? What if it is my clock? What if, by any chance, it is a countdown to you not being able to stand my bullshit anymore?

The last one held on for a decent amount of time before she called it quits. I don't really want to take chances with you.

But once again, I screw up, think it's too late to fix things, come back - and repeat. So how do I break the cycle?
I have gone a little bit too far this time - once again.

I'm tired of being me, because me does not fit in this two-people environment.

I am afraid we'll run our course way before the future we designed materializes. And that's gonna be on me. I am sick of spending a couple of days a week snuggling my blanket and staying in bed all day long because I suck.



Please someone give me a map of how to be a good boyfriend.
And then teach me how to read a map

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LHCob76kigA

Wok

I always thought I was flawed. But I've come to realize it's not entirely accurate. I am raw.

I have lived a lot more than I should have in my head, but I have little to no understanding of the world. I've always painted an ominous mental picture to my head to compel myself not to step outside. I've shaped a safe bubble in which everyone lives peacefully and the only real problems are whether I have enough money to eat one more kebab this week.

But I made a deal that would see me go outside if it meant I could love and be loved in return. Just one more time. Both parties have held up their part of the bargain. But as for me, it has not been as easy a ride as I had envisioned.

I need to learn ways to think, to behave, that I never before had to know. I am supposed to put things into perspective much faster than I was used to. I have to compromise when my life had been a straight road of unyielding decisions and principles.

I was not made for two. At least not by myself. I am just now being taught how things work around here in the open. I am not fast enough, not careful enough, not smart enough to take it all in and make the most of it.

So my mistakes stack up, and at the end of the day, they're just a big, fat pile of crap I regret even bringing up in the first place.

It won't happen in a day, because if there is one thing I know it is that this is a process. It won't happen tomorrow, it won't happen next week; but eventually, when I've fucked up one too many times and the point of no return is reached, I'll hate myself  for losing you like that. And rightfully so.

That being said, I am exposing myself here. I have become an obvious target. Mere flesh is covering my body now that I've taken off my heavy armor, and you can stab me at will - I won't even wince.

But if deep down I come in peace, I am not going to stand still while I feel like I am being trampled on. That much will not fly.

And at some point, when there's not much straw left on the camel's back,

We will have a problem.

A real one this time.

________________________________________________________________________________

I hold up a peace sign, but I carry a gun.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tTpmJFqs3aE

Strike 2

That's insane. It is totally insane.
It's like I had forgotten about the exhausting, excruciating waiting. Minutes feel like hours. Seconds feel like days. I'm powerless, I'm unable to do anything productive. I'm unable to eat.
I'm just waiting here for my name to be called and the death sentence to be dropped upon me.
I'm about to get dumped, right?
It's too bad, I really caught feelings this time. I know man, I know you warned me, but I could not help it. It seemed so great, it felt so natural, it was so amazing. But I had it coming, and as I cleverly pointed out a few weeks ago myself
The higher you reach, the faster and more painful the fall. And boy, is it fast.
And fucking painful.
In a matter of 48 hours, everything went from blissful to completely wrong. I'm disappointing.

I was mistaken. It's not going to hurt less because it was just a stint. It certainly won't hurt as long, but it's not any easier. I thought that I would have learned by now, that the strength to stand strong would be carved in my being. What a fool I've been. It is destroying me, it is ripping my insides apart.
And it's too little too late now.

I am here waiting, a couple more hours, until the giant boulder comes crushing down on me. But my hands and feet are tied, so all I can do is either close my eyes and fancy everything is going to be okay, or look up and anticipate my demise. Neither is appealing. Neither works.

I don't wanna lose her.
At first I thought I did not want to lose it. But I don't want to lose her. I really don't want to.
Damn,

Damn.

I'm clueless. There's supposed to be a way. I can't find it. I am waiting for a miracle when I know they don't exist. I am hoping for a sudden change of heart when you've made up your mind.

I am sad and disgusted in myself. My brain, heart and guts all want to throw up at once, like a dirty symphony of doom.

Shit, I really am in love.
And I really fucked it up.




There won't be a strike three.
I am all but done now.
I am done.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0eMrTIW2LQk

Boy seeking Girl

I am sitting here on my bed as the clock runs wild, devouring some precious and essential time I'm numbly watching vanish before my eyes. I have a serious hangover.
I am puzzled.
I mean it, I am puzzled. The picture is complete, the billion piece puzzle has been completed, and yet something seems off.
Life has been going against its usual current, and I'm bewildered to see it self-destruct. It is making a meal out of itself and the more it feeds the hungrier it grows - or shrinks.

I don't get it. I don't know how to deal with that kind of things anymore. I'm a mess, I've lost all control. Mutiny. I've lost my grip willingly, true, but I don't know how to reestablish myself as the ruler here, how to restore the order.
I had forgotten how messy it was out there in the wilderness. Was I really able to navigate this life before? How the hell could I pull it off all these years? How do I not make the same mistakes over and over again when I feel exactly the same way.
It's a cold stew of my biggest failures all aggregated together into one big bowl of mayhem. I don't recall winning any of these battles. How am I to win against a Megazord of them?
It makes no sense whatsoever. I'm trying to figure out a way, I'm attempting to find the weak spot.
Life is folding and I'm left alone to try and fix it.
It was so much easier when it was playing against me. At least I did not have to take care of that shit, to keep it in check.
It was its job.
Time does not fly by me anymore. It thunders by. I am no Superman, I could not possibly halt its course. I need time to think, time that is thunderstorming away from me.
At least I won't be struck by lightning.
At least I was not subject to the coup de foudre.

I'm not like Josh, I'm not getting better at this.
But I'll try, I'll put in the hours, I'll figure out a way.
After all, she might be worth it, for she took my hand like in my wildest dreams
And has yet to let got of it.

If I throw caution to the wind, is it gonna get smashed to pieces by the storm?
Because I'd like to make sure I'm not fighting for nothing
Make sure I'm not squandering my time to no avail
Make sure I have a shot at this thing

So that I can try to catch up with happiness.

_____________________________________________________

I was way drunker than I wish I had been when first saying I love you.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dNO-_xIX1AU

Squirrelzilla

"For real, your heart's just made out of paper dude"

It is funny how language works - or rather does not. 

I decided to shave tonight, on a whim, declaring to myself it would be a nice stepping stone from which to jump to the other side of the day. 

So I scrapped the fire off my face and it stopped to burn. I bled - albeit littler than usual - but it's the way things go. And as the blades were methodically and relentlessly butchering my face, as they were tearing through this fury foxy coat, I started to feel naked; almost as if forced to undress before a crowd of feelings. 

And the flames kept burning out, and I kept the claws scratching. Take it away, take it all away. 

So that no one else will.

I felt good afterwards, a sight, a sigh of relief, satisfaction of coming to terms with my own decisions. 

I'm going to relapse, because my face is an arsonist, and I cannot put it away for eternity.

Yet, what I don't know is the language that would better describe the proverbial struggle that comes with every forest fire that goes. 

In English, I'm gonna grow a beard again. That means I am willing to actively infant, nurture, raise anew the source of the flames and let it ravage everything knowingly, by choice, hoping for something I haven't quite figured out yet - before putting and end to its misery when I think it's past its heyday.

In French, the beard is gonna grow on me. Literally. Without my consent, it will inscreasingly occupy more and more space on my face, grow thicker and more intense; and I don't really have a say in this - my only alternative being to murder it before it takes over and starts to, well, grow on me. Proverbially.

This is where the idea cannot fully translate. This is the space between the frontiers, the purgatory where the farthest ideas roam aimlessly, seeking a place to eventually land, unable to make up their minds.

My beard is gone. And with it I got rid of you.

Indeed, I AM completely insane. I gave far too big a meaning to you. In the end, it was nice to get to touch your life a little, but you were no big deal. If you look at the bigger picture, two weeks, they're not going to change much.

But what people seem to be blind to, what they could not get their eyes to see, is not the way I touched your life. But the way you touched mine.

You were the one with the only key to enable my release. You allowed me to leave my cell behind.

And of course it hurts, it hurts to think that I am just another toy in your little box. Of course it hurts to be bound by promises restraining me yet again. Of course I would have loved to have a shot at carving my way into your heart. Of course I would have loved a shot at loving you. Of course I would have loved you.

But I play by the rules, and the rules never allow that. Fine. 

I cope.

Still, I hurt, even so slightly. It's not a pleasant mind pattern, I don't enjoy the pain per se. But I am hurting. And what a breakthrough.

You are, unbeknownst to you, the best escape artist in there. Nobody will ever be able to do what you did, and nobody will hold the place you will forever be assigned to in my heart. That's how things are. In retrospect I will want to take it back. But retrospect does not mean shit when it comes to feelings. Because the very fact that we feel means it's volatile. You catch the flight and hang on as long as you can, and when it's gone, the memories are just pictures devoid of colors.

The world had been lacking those colors. I was seeing the same shapes, understanding the beauty similarly, but I lacked the explosion in my pupils. Now I see.

You did not take the decision to leave, because you were never really here. And I know we could go on like that, I could cling to hopeless illusions and start building a new cell in which I could rest, comfortably numb. But not this time. You took me by the hand and made me feel what it's like out there. 

And truth be told, I am secretly longing I could never let go of your hand. But I can't force you. I can't help you if you don't need help. I won't hang onto you if my chances don't get above the minuses. So I let go.

I will never have the courage to repel your hand if ever it appears next to mine, even if for a mere few seconds, for temporary bliss. I will never be fool enough to refuse a kiss. But I won't be too stupid again. 

You were wrong when you said that you were not the fantastic little thing in my life.

You were right to say I was not the fantastic little thing in yours.

So I'm going cold turkey this time. And I am aware that I will relapse. But for now it seems to me that it's the best course of action available for the taking.

For the first time I am taking my leave, and I don't know if ever I will return. 

With my hedaphones on, listening to Japanese music, nursing a dirty glass of Japanese whiskey, turning my back on the starless sky, pouting, I pour my lines out. 

Because of course my heart is made of paper. It is brand new. So I need to take extra care of it.

I have your smile in my eyes, your laugh in my ears, your body tattooed on my brain. The look in my eyes when I look into yours will be the first ever memory I will shelter in the little box.

You are the most beautiful girl I've ever met. You are the special treatment I needed to successfully suck off the venom. 

I will be grateful for life. And for starters, I will leave, as a parting gift.

Because we've both started to worry about the same thing.

Me with you is starting to scare you. You have begun to admit that I was dangerous, for if you are the best escape artist, as a break-in specialist

I'm in a league of my own.

I won't have you go through the trouble of me. You deserve what you think is best. And you don't think it's me.

So let me dismiss myself gracefully

Before I'm too far gone.

So I am hurting, and that hurts. But if I can hurt today, and as painful as it may be, maybe it means that I can feel again, maybe it opened the crack to the other side as well.

Maybe, and just maybe

If I am hurting today

I might be happy the day after tomorrow.

Maybe I can.

____________________________________________________________

No, I can't help it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vYhHY77j9L8

Inside of this machine

So curtain call already, uh?
It did not take long in the end. I carefully tried to weave my way through the mud, but I stumbled upon a crack. It was easier than I expected. I still thought I was gonna be given a few more shots at this thing.
Anyways.
I fell early, so it is unlikely the wound is that severe. There certainly won't be any scar this time. Yet it was an interesting test bed. My mind collapsed, but the rest seems fine.
It is a pity, because now that I've crossed to the other side, I have to keep going. I don't have the luxury of a choice anymore. There is no turning back.
My eyes can't seem to figure out any direction.
There's mist everywhere. A huge , thick blanket of grey surrounding all. I'm right in the eye of the cyclone and can't even see my feet. But if I don't move, I won't ever move again.
Which way then? I have my pick of choices.
But none looks good to me. None looks promising.
I'm doing a really good job sheltering the little box. Our brains were designed to learn from experience. It's what I've always called intuition.
It's not some godsent ability. You remember the shapes, the environment, the parameters. They're always different, but somehow, the patterns remain similar. The only thing that needs some adapting to is the opponent. But in a given situation, when you've made more than enough blunders, you will know before even knowing.
That things are bad.
And my built-up experience is right.
So I had a nanosecond to jump on it and wrap myself around the little thing. I took the blow. I'm suffering.
But it does not have to be broken yet.
Let it see from the inside. Let it learn fear, anguish, disappointment, mild despair.
Let it see defeat. But let's not lose it this time.

There are two main parts of me. The first is just the little life-awkward kid who grew up and got beat, over and over and over again until he broke. The second is the persona that was shaped to replace the first, to act as a surrogate for as long as the first needed to get fixed. He took way too long to fix. He took too many years to find the fitting piece. So the second developed by itself, became a self-sustaining entity, and took over.
The first part came back. And they cohabit together, if they're not thriving. It's a mess, but an organized mess.
The second is a little insane. The neural network used to create it was damaged at the time, and it breathed bugs, loopholes, flaws into it. It snaps every now and then.
It has been going rogue for hours now. The sight of blood.
The second was designed to be, in every respect, a better version of the first. Stronger, calmer, colder, smarter, better. An upgrade from the raw and rough draft. A clean version birthed after trials and tribulations - but with all the red ink removed. And I realized today.
This was THE crucial mistake. The thing I had been chasing, hunting down forever, at the core of the looping pain. The writing was on the wall.
It has not experienced anything at all. It has memorized, not felt. He knows what is theoretically good, but can't ever quite make sense of it. It's a well-crafted imitation of a being.

It cannot deal with red ink because it's never seen it flow on the ground, crying from its veins. It's never tasted the bitterness of its own blood.
And now it's gotta take it all in at once.

I am my brain, and if I don't understand much of what I am and how I work, I know one thing: it won't be able to see it through. I did not put him here for that purpose. A powerful scarecrow that, against all odds, began moving by itself. That's all it was. But now it's right here in my head, and it's hurting. Spouting nonsense, crawling on the floor, damning a world that does not even exist.

It's time for the first to come back. It's time for him to take the second on his shoulders and go wherever.
As long as they go.
He might be inferior, less talented, and weaker at life; but for all intents and purposes, he has the one thing that will let them get out of this mess. The experience acquired from countless iterations of internal disasters. He knows how to deal with leaving a trail of blood behind. And he knows it's important.
Because someday, someone inside my head might get back there- and it'll have a path to follow.

Intuition. That's my only weapon now. That's my only hope that the first will get the second to a safe place while the second tries to protect the little box.

At the moment I really don't know if they'll succeed. Ominous is the task, but I have a hunch that some way, somehow- the first might find a way through the mess.
Or die for good trying, this time.


Tonight another important chapter is coming to a close. Actually it already has, but this once I have a chance to look the chapter in the eye before getting myself out there on my suicide mission.
I don't know if it will do me any good or what.
It was short, microscopically so maybe- but it sure did have a permanent effect on my whole being.
And so tonight I say my farewell to that line in my book.

One that made me bleed more ink than ever before for a single line.

Goodbye.


Oh Jesus Christ I'm alone again,
So what did you do those three days you were dead?
Because this problem is gonna last
More than the weekend

Comfort Zone

I've been riding life's rollercoaster for a week now. It has been a fairly interesting time span, during which I've had the chance to experience the thrill of oxygen flowing right into my lungs without slapping me on the face. A big ball of brand new fresh air recoloring my entrails - a nice changeof pace from the stale, dry and smothering substance I had to take in for years. However the wagon has not yet started to fall.
It's not the first ticket I've bought, I remember the ups and downs; I have some recollection of the dizzying and numbing feeling of getting closer to the sun and the fear of falling nowhere fast.
I have never been one for adrenaline. But I've been enjoying it so far nonetheless.

I know. I know. We all know.
I need to calm down. I need to gain some much needed perspective out of all this. I've always complained about being on the outside looking in. It would not be a bad thing for me to step out for a second and reflect.
I am getting ahead of myself and I'm becoming delusional, borderline insane. My world is trying to swallow the bitter universe, but this illusion of grandeur will bring doomsday about if I don't do anything to hit the brakes- for there is no way my world's stomach could take everything in.
I don't want my existence to belch again for some time before eventually vomiting the surplus of happiness. I don't want to be empty, to lose that consistency of my being once more.

This ride is already among my three most memorable ones. It has to be. Because it is the first one I chose not to step away from. I had a choice for once, and I still took the chance. So that one's gonna be on me, whatever the outcome.
Most importantly, because in the grand scheme of things, it's had a significant impact in a ludicrously minuscule time frame. I am changing right before my eyes. More than in a long time. I am regaining things I did not even remember existed in the first place.
Maybe that's inaccurate.
Maybe I'm just getting new things that were never there before.
And for all that I am thankful.

And I know, I know the fall is gonna have an Icarus feeling to it. But I don't want to prepare for it. It was my mistake last time - it does not hurt less anyway. I'll cope.
I am willing to.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

Of course I know I am not in love. I have learned my lesson and haven't forgotten it. I know I am not Hugh Grant.

But who can blame me for being disoriented? After all these years, how could anyone blame me for being a kid on a trampoline? I think I deserve a little bit of that, I've earned it. 

I've earned the right to be genuinely happy, if just for a couple hours a week, even if it ends tomorrow. Even if it ended yesterday.

I have a fundamental right to taste the thrill and bathe in it. 

I finally possess the ability to try and be ecstatic for a little while. 

Please don't take that away from me. 

Not yet.

Not yet.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I was beyond repair, without caveat.

And she is not going to repair me, because she does not want to, and she would not know how to do it.

But she's been showing me something essential; something that no one else could have discovered;

She's been proving that I can be fixed.

Thank her for the quantum leap.

*Hey listen, I think it's started playing some feelings on its own?*