Gracefully cursed, I thirst.

I stood there naked

amid all my vices

and suddenly realized

how disgusting everything was

how over I was all of it

and how I needed help.


 

I laughed at my own stupidity

at how reckless I was

and how there was no need

for

all the complications.


 

It was beautifully

twisted

how my own head

kept playing with me.

Without any sign

my brain would push

me to the edge

and then drag me back.


 

Mend one hole

another one just rips open.

I saw no need for fixing things

and I confess

that I lost control.


 

I was sick of myself

Sick of being sick of myself

I was naked

amid all the complications

and loathed every single thing

I knew.

Alone in a packed room.

There’s this little scared kid

hiding in the corners

of my head.

This vulnerable seven year old

with a twisted mind

an incredibly soft heart

and guilty thoughts.

He is scared of the world

scared of all the mean

distorted

human beings.

He is scared of himself

he doesn’t know how

to make the noise in his head

go away.

He always prays that once

he gets older

all the pain

those shivers

that unstoppable racing

heart

will just fade away

and he’ll be stable.

Sometimes the kid assumes my face.

And he voices his dark thoughts.

He never stops feeling alone

even when he is surrounded with people

who love him

and whom he adores back.

He is frightened for his life.

He shuts my body down,

shaking me side to side

wanting to get out

wanting some help.

So I shush him

and sing him a lullaby

to get him to relax.

Tell him bedtime stories

white lies

and

cuddle him.

Then he rests again

in the dark corners

of my brain

waiting

for me

to make a mistake.

“We are the people that you never get the best of.”

You could consider this a review. A review of a social event that I have foreshadowed weeks ago. The high school reunion took place. Here are some interesting things I’ve gathered.

  • nobody changed
  • watching others spiral down has never felt so weird and good at the same time
  • my former friends and classmates are doing drugs
  • my former friends and classmates seem to be stuck at the age of sixteen

Like I’ve said, it was all about finding out who has the power and control, who shines brighter than anyone else. I don’t care how any of this makes me sound. It was my goal to do something about myself after all those years after high school and it all came to yesterday when I had to attend this mildly uninteresting event. But oh, was it fruitful.

I hate every single one of them. I wanted to run away after five minutes of sitting there because I saw no point in talking to anyone. But something inside me kept telling me to shut up and observe. And make the most of it. I felt like in a zoo. I had no idea I could be alienated so much from all these people that I shared eight years of my life with. I just… felt like I got the best of everything.

After all this time of underestimating myself, of not believing in myself, of feeling vastly lesser than others, this reunion served as a mirror to me. I reflected on myself. And all the people that surrounded me in that room. I could care less about what was anyone doing, yet I saw how unhappy and lost everyone was. People figuring out that what they decided to study sucked, people lingering, clinging onto their ideals of having a job that fulfills your lifelong dreams and earns you a shitton of money at the same time.. Everyone thinking they are so perfect and they can do anything. And in that one mess of a beehive, I felt calm. I felt like they were in the palm of my hand and I could watch their antics. Falling asleep on park benches, being unable to say no to their parents, not thinking for themselves, feeling falsely superior to everything. There’s the difference. I know my battles. I compromise. And I could say that I was happy. I know what this looks like.. that I feed on hate and fuel my anger. But it’s angst that keeps me going on harder and faster. Nobody believed me that I could study two majors at the same time. Yet here we are. I proved them wrong. They didn’t recognize me.

For the first time in my life I have friends that I can count on, friends that love me no matter what, friends that I love, a loving boyfriend, a place to stay, a healthy family. I have character, I am starting to feel mildly comfortable in my own skin. And that’s definitely something. Am I the asshole? You be the judge. Because I don’t frankly care that much.

Betting on the muse(s).

The humidity was at its peak

lonely wives were flashing their bodies

on the balconies

while their loyal husbands were on their way

home.

The day was arid, dirty, despicably hot

and yet there was something

admirable about it.

I waited until the night

to get out of my cocoon

and show my own world

what I am really made of.

The self indulgent writing

and the excessive drinking

kept changing me in a way that was yet to be shown to me.

I leaned up against Fiona’s lyrics

I clung onto Lana’s plastic seductiveness

I cherished Siobhan’s fiery and depressing mood.

I had so many heroines

but so few heroes.


 

My one hero has fled the town

and he was nowhere to be found

even though my feeble stalking attempts

made sense at the time.

I felt fine for the couple of days

then the cheap band-aids peeled off

and my wounds were exposed again.

A maggot-ridden heartbreak.

I really felt close to Bukowski at times

he was my excuse for a hero.

There are worse things than being alone he said.

True I’d say and I poured him another shot of gin.

We would sit silently

and stare.

He would offer me a smoke

and I would politely refuse

he’d laugh at the puniness of my decision

and took a long

satisfying

drag.

Henry? I’d say.

Yeah?

You know, if I wanted to, if I really wanted… I could be anything I want. There is nothing standing in my way. I could just pick up and go. Right, Henry? You get me, right?

Yeah… right. He’d reply and finish his gin.

I’d stand there alone

Knowing that nobody

not even Henry truly cares

and that we are all just

lonely bodies

with our dirty little secrets

waiting for something to happen.


 

I knew nothing would come out

of anything.

We’d still be here

with our temp jobs

temp loves

temp lives.

Ultimately nothing

means anything.


 

I missed him

more than my heart could ever express

it broke

it bled

it cried for help.

But I always pushed it back

and let it not get lazy and

still do its work.

Pump more into my veins

because I wanted to go on

and in the end

I didn’t need him.

I was broke and lost

crying and reaching out

but I felt bad for continuosly

waiting.

Waiting

for the knife.

I took the last sip of wine that evening

and turned to my bed.


 

 

There are far worse things than being lonely, Simon.

Far worse.

Pick up and go.

I need a plan. I need something to get out of this. Keep my mind occupied. Break down on rare occasions. Keep on writing. Maybe write a novel. Maybe stand on the top of the world. Maybe hold onto it so I don’t drift off into nothingness.

Excuses for my friends
Here comes the reasons i have to justify it was better in the end
Here comes the last time I’m gonna kiss you
And the first night sleeping alone
Here comes the hardest thing we’ve ever known.

Hopefully my self deprecation won’t come too soon. Full blown summertime sadness. Maybe I’ll just stick to being my old cool self. Maybe I’ll just lay here. And smell your scent off the pillow. My heart breaks like I’ve never known heartbreak before. I miss you. I can’t even picture how this room is going to look like without you. I don’t want you to go even though I know it’s probably for the best. I’m gonna grow pathetic, starve myself to death, beg you through all the pictures of you to just come back.

Every time I smell your perfume my stomach turns in desperation. Every time I see the name of your hometown somewhere I can hear my heart drop an inch lower. And of course every single time I come home… I see you in every corner of this hellhole. I know everything will go away eventually. And I can’t hate you even if I try.

Dear reader, expect a lot more desperation, hate and heartbreak after this. I’m sorry. But I don’t care. My life is about to turn into one of the darkest phases in its tiny history. And I’m going to take full advantage of it.

Dark Side.

I hated them. I hated them all. For their superficiality, their superiority. For being regular, normal, straight, worked out, beautiful, vain, hollow. I have more substance, i dared to say. I know that the problem is within me. I need pills to make this an easier place to live. Otherwise, there’s only one other way. I hate it. Myself. People. The world. Why am I here? Didn’t ask for any of this shit. Honestly, help me. Help. Please.

Wishes and cycles.

There is so much hate, yet there is no place to put it. I can’t channel my hate towards anywhere in particular because it’s simply too tiring. I can’t put up with my own head. Every week, my mind beats the living hell out of me and leaves nothing but an empty husk. So I get up off the floor, brush myself and go face the world again. I am doing well for several days, but then the cycle continues. And I don’t seem like I can break it on my own.

There were countless times when things looked better, brighter and more optimistic. I wish I didn’t have to put up with so much shit that I put in front of myself. I wish that I wasn’t so much against myself. I hope for a day when I could face myself in the mirror and tell myself that I am just alright and that there is nothing wrong with me. Not gaze into my own emptiness and damn myself to hell. I have so much hate inside of me. Towards myself, towards the world for allowing me to feel this way. I hate everything so fucking much, that I just sit down and cry, completely paralyzed.

I wish I was all about rainbows and smiles but I just can’t be like that. It hurts for me just to take deep breaths because they somehow shorten and my heart speeds up. I’ve even come to moments when I am physically sick. I wish I wasn’t so hooked on what I am feeling. I wish I could just live and not look around nor back. To have a plan, to live by it and to do everything the way I want. I wish I would believe in myself more. I wish I didn’t rely on others to tell me what’s right or wrong. But I don’t know how to achieve any of this. I have met so many people, been through so much self-inflicted pain that I don’t know what else it’s supposed to take for me to be finally able to breathe normally. To stop laughing in front of others when I don’t feel like it. To stop labeling myself. To accept myself. Or to change myself. I don’t know how. I am scared and tired. Yet the cycle will keep on continuing.

I met a boy who was everything I ever wanted to be. He’s smart, mysterious, self-observant, yet not self-destructive. He has his act together and floats through life just fine. He never loses control of what he wants to do and does everything his way. He possesses the face of someone who I wanted to look like and has a job that I would love but don’t have the guts or confidence to apply for anything like it. Instead I crawl back into my shell and fortify it some more. I want to be able to do something right again in my life. That’s why I am attracted to his personality and it hurts me to only see him at the same time. To see someone who lives like you’ve wanted but you’re too much emotional wreck of a boy.

And there’s where my head comes to interfere. Maybe everything is in my head. The boy could be unhappier than me and for all I know, his father could’ve been beating him when he was a kid. And yet again I lose perspective - the line between real and imagination begins to blur and I sink into my own constructed reality of skepticism and loathing. I wish I just stopped comparing myself and lived. But my self-esteem and paralysis from hating rejection and fear of getting stomped on is in my way. I need to do something. I am scared. For real this time. For my own sanity.

I have these stable / unstable waves. And by unstable I mean breaking-down-crying-for-help-screaming-out-you-promised kind of unstable. I want to stand up strong and even if this is a break up, I don’t want it to get the best of me. So I curl up in pain on the floor for an hour and then get on with my day like nothing happened.

I don’t want to hate you, I really don’t. But I may have no other choice. Because this hurts me too much. You promised. Come back. Now.

On the verge of falling.

I feel like my own bile is suffocating me. I feel physically sick. I never thought my mind would challenge me so much.

Why does everything have to be so intense? Why can’t shit just be regular? I wish I could do things differently. The older I get the more scared I get and more opportunities fall through. Retrospectively, I could have been so much more, but I can’t grasp it. Myself.

I need to go somewhere. Run away from myself.

I can’t face myself in the bathroom mirror, shit’s about to go down and when it does, I’ll break.

You see? Nothing changed. I’m still the same. It’s horrifying.

I feel so small.

I don’t want the world. I only want what I deserve.

It was close to two in the morning. A half-empty bottle of beer in my hand. I was slightly staggering. „Tipsy“ as they say. The night seemed perfect. It was so cold outside I had to bury myself deeper in my coat and watch the derelict corners of our quarters. I watched the lonely factories in the distance, surrounded by chimneys, apartments and caravans. I was listening to Richard Marvin and blend myself into the sound. I felt free. Nobody was around and the street was there, to please me, myself and I. No whispers, no suspicious sounds. But what would I know since I had my headphones on.

This moment was a moment of peace, clairvoyance and happiness to me. One of few that I experience daily. Nobody was around, I was at the peak of consciousness and analysis. And everything seemed clear. I was happy there, walking on the sidewalk, like nothing mattered. The slippery, frozen gravel beneath my feet felt crisp and I was in heaven for a split second. I sensed life storied happening around me, in all the ugly grey buildings that surrounded me. I saw feet flying up in the air and screen flicker. I was sad. Extremely sad. And maybe that’s what made me happy. I knew that even if I weren’t to make it, I had myself. My own head that felt comfortable to be in when the whole world didn’t understand you. Not even the ones closest to you.

Sometimes I fall asleep, rewinding my whole day in front of my eyes, thinking how tomorrow, I shall do things differently, do them “right” and cope with things easier. I wake up in the morning and have no idea what I was feeling the night before. It’s like my feelings inexplicably come in intense waves and leave nothing. Nothing at all. It’s like the day before never happened. Like a brand new start. And then I come face to face with the same issues again. And I break.

I wish my brain could be removed. I wish I could numb down the pain, silence the mutter, kill off the bugs in my head. I wish I had something to hold on. I wish I weren’t so lost. For so long. I don’t know how long I can put up with this.

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