Afraid

I'm always afraid: of having nightmares,of waking up to this,of crossing the street...I'm afraid of the people I meet,of the way I'm seen as,of not being enough.Hell,I'm even afraid of myself!It's just a crippling feeling that grabs a hold of you and never lets go.A true parasite,one might say.

Today was one of those days,when I could just sense that second shadow gripping tighter and screaming louder.

I'm tired.I'm tired of this suffocating smoke,of this burning and choking classroom,of being the wounded bitch that I've become.I'm tired of running,of wasting my life in this goddamn train,of slowly dying with no intent of living whatsoever.But,most of all,I'm tired of being right about the bad things.

This cement is cold and my hand comforts what my mind has yet to process.

I'm done.I'm done with believing,with hoping,with trusting.I'm done.

Never wake me up

...and all these people,and all these words,
they make me want to spit on everything I once
cherished with a curled up soul.

I'm mean in my grief,blind
to their unknowing,
but far from piteous and willing
to parade my black cloth
around.

I long to sleep and never wake up,
to turn sound into silence,
to coat my stinging memories with another layer
of erasing time...

I was always nobody-
now,I'm nobody minus one.

I'm selfish and I'm angry and I just want
to go home...

...and I'm sorry for these people,and I'm sorry for these words,
but pain is like a poison
that never truly works...

Dreadful

I wake up.I remember.I wish I didn't,bury my face in the pillow,pray to a God I've long ago decided wasn't real.I eat between flashbacks of memories that I hadn't witnessed,but imagined in a thousand gruesome ways.I snarl at every attempt of comfort like a wounded beast.I beg for mercy from myself,but I'm a cruel judge in my own right.I do what has to be done,though nothing seems worthy anymore.I play the same scenario in my head until it becomes a surreal film about another world.I choke on my coffee and crave for a lobotomy.I talk as little as possible because it hurts and I'm hurt and I'm tired of hurting everyone.I utter another dreadful "goodbye" and smother the thoughts that come afterwards.I curse this summer heat for the first time in my life,wholeheartedly.I wish nature would be on my side today,just today...I learn that I'm not a good actor after all,that I can't even begin to mimic "normalcy" when mostly needed.I come up with excuses,paint an ugly smile on my face and force my lungs to breathe.I use words to numb the images racing at the back of my eyes and to disguise my misery.I walk towards my fears like I've done a thousand times before.I greet and I'm greeted.I tell my story and close that door.I count the hours before I can be alone again.I write shallow words for people I'd rather not meet.I feel the silence taking over us and let it do so.I catch up on things I once enjoyed without a second thought.I question my sanity,then realize there's nothing more to question.I feel that orange churning inside my stomach.I promise myself sleep will make everything better.I conclude that I'm a bad liar.I give up on myself.

Filling the void

I don't cope well with loss.
Well,I don't cope at all,actually.It doesn't seem real and I don't want it to.I'd rather convince myself that it's a nightmare from which I'm bound to wake up "any minute now" rather than wrap my head around the fact that...That it fucking hurts,that I want to drink till I'm numb,that I'd rather be anyone but myself now.
Writing is good-that is,when you can see.
I try avoiding people.People are draining and needy and too much like myself to be emotionally useful.
Coffee helps-it calms down that nauseating taste at the back of your throat.Then again,by the fourth cup,one starts to wonder if it isn't actually the other way round...
Funnily enough,it's easier to live another's drama-even when that someone is not someone at all.
Truth be told,nothing can be funny right now,considering I feel the strongest urge to bash my head against a wall,but yeah.We do all that we can.
I,on the other hand,fail miserably and pray I don't wake up in the morning.

...when it all goes to Hell

Today is black and it shall remain blank.

Hungry

my body craves what my mind doesn't need
and I'm stuck between
a primal need,society and a thought
of everlasting greed.

this hunger,this unfilled core,
this ghost without a body
is like a slab of meat among wolves:
always a temptation,
never a form of absolution...

be damned my mind and my fingers
for I don't know how to baptize
this imaginary bastard
of ceaseless appetite !
be damned my luscious ghouls!
be damned everything I think
I love!

to starve in the middle of a bountiful crop-
my world...

How to be

you have to be pretty and you have to be smart,
you have to be lovely and you have to be brave,
you have to be daring and you have to behave,
you have to be fearless and you have to be Eve

you have to be a paradox
of unsurmountable proportions,
all perfect and broken and sweet as can be,
a hurting doe at the mercy of the first soul
willing to drag you to your feet

you have to be a naked beast
in the clothes of a nun
and constantly kissing
with blood-red lips
a cross
made not for God,but for other's sins

you have to be as hollow
as they want you to be,
ready to close your eyes and happy to kneel

you have to be everything and still be pleased

I can't be.

Confusing clocks

I never really understood why
things were seen as "necessary"-
maybe I was born on the wrong day,
the one when the Universe got truly sad
or time was invented by a drunk madman
or it wasn't my time at all.

I despise the need to hang my day
on the dark limbs of this mechanical creature
no more real than the nightmares I've been having
since before I was born.

I'm angry with myself for not knowing how to feel,
for blaming my youth,
for misplacing my priorities.

I hate this gaping void,this overwhelming darkness
that feels not shame nor pain in making
my open eyes seem as if they'd been blinded
by a veil.

I wish I could just burn a history book.

Hidden purpose

I didn't want to go back today.Waking up,there was this awful taste in my mouth and the alarm clock sounded even more haunting.So I granted myself another day of isolation,another day for closure,another day to try to let go.

Life is so weird when it doesn't seem like your life anymore:you read,you eat,you weep,but everything has a hazy aura to it and you're constantly waiting for that badly written script to unravel a silly joke.

But...it doesn't.People come and go,life carries on with you stuck in the background.

Even so,sometimes,some blessed times,salvation has a name and that is "patience".Sometimes,it's a good thing to pray.Sometimes,a beloved soul is returned to you and the world makes sense again.Sometimes,it's OK to be a stupid child...

Maybe my staying had a hidden purpose,maybe it was pure luck.Either way,I'm happier now that this day has a purr to it.

Blank day

You wake up,but you don't feel alive at all.You eat,but every bite is hard to swallow and tastes like purposeless dust.You cling to a cup of coffee,but the past comes creeping in,as does your carelessly smothered rage.You try to read,but words seem vapid,stingy,dumb.You go outside,but there's too much sun and too little comfort in such a familiar place.You listen to music,but you know all too well that this will come back to bite you in the heart someday.You turn on the TV,but those people seem stupid and too tiresome.You try to write,but the ink hurts your fingers and your eyes.You bury your head into a pillow,but sleep is too much of a wicked monster to relieve your aches.You cry,but your tears are on the inside and there's only so much you can do to turn them into the catharsis you so badly need.You try to find a solution,but your problem doesn't have one.You wish this were somebody else's story,but the odds aren't in your favor today.

Leave me be!

People don't understand other people's pain.

They turn it into something trivial and unimaginable just because they can't relate to it.You cry because you're weak,because you're a child,because you're not thinking straight-but never because your pain is real,too damn real,and,in the words of a wise man,"it demands to be felt".

My pain is as real as can be and I need to let it consume me for a while if I am to come out of this whole ordeal at least a bit sane.

You have no right to tell me for whom or what I should and shouldn't weep,no right to tell my heart what's "important" and what's not.

Do you know why I ache so badly?Because I have so little in my life which matters that I can't bear loss.Yes,I'm a child,a stupid,loving,empathy-driven and hopeless child,who cares for a cat as much as does for a man.

And this child has one reason less to come home and one fearful reason more to leave it behind...

Wet pillow

I want to never have a nightmare again.
I want to release myself from hatred.
I want to destroy all my clocks.
I want to rewrite this day.
I want to get out of this goddamn train.
I want to not have a black feeling in my guts.
I want to erase that song from my mind.
I want to not care so damn much.
I want to smoke until I puke,then start all over again.
I want to drink myself into oblivion.
I want to not feel so real.
I want to stop crying.
I want to bring yesterday into today.
I want to cleanse my mind of all these gruesome thoughts.
I want to make things better,but I don't know how.
I want to forget this pain.
I want to beat somebody up so badly.
I want to let go,but I can't...