Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Charcoal heart

8.18 PM, Borås, Sweden

Today's soundtrack;

  • Antonio Pinto - "Lord Of War" soundtrack
  • The Kin- Together
  • Lapush - Aurora
"On your side, lets talk about everything
Got no time for words that you've already heard
Say my name when you want to, you just leave when you want to
We're still here, we're still alive

Write your name in the stars
I am trying to heal your heart"

Dear diary,

It seems like we've been through this before. I'm not even gonna try to explain why I haven't been writing in you for the past few days. Things are... difficult right now. I lack the energy... and the courage, frankly, to spill my heart on these virtual blank pages. Not that anyone bothers reading it, but if I was writing only because of that, I would have stopped long ago. No, this is not only therapy, it's also something frightening, because of the emotions it stirs up inside of me. I can go on for days at a time without feeling that familiar old pain in my chest, telling me that I'm tainted by the thing most people call "love". The whole expression has become like a mantra inside my head, constantly repeating itself like a bad horror movie stuck in the VCR, constantly bringing fear and confusion into my everyday life. I look upon myself as a cripple, only my limbs and body aren't disfigured, but my mind is... in a very bad way.

Are you getting confused? Cause' I'm sure as hell doing it. This evening is pretty much like every other evening, I sit here in front of this glowing screen, hour after hour, staring blankly at whatever entertainment I find for the moment. But every once in a while, a part of my brain that usually spends its time slumbering, wakes up and decides to put in a comment in the constantly ongoing debate between my body, my heart and my brain. And more than often, it ends in me getting some sort of insight, which itself leads to me burying myself in old memories. We exchanged a few words today, shallow words that probably didn't mean anything to any of us. "How's school". "That's nice. Best of luck". And all I wanted to do was scream - with the most articulate words and expressions I could ever find - I MISS YOU. IMISSYOUIMISSYOUIMISSYOU. I miss everything, well, not everything, cause' everything wasn't good, but everything that was, I miss. I miss waking up every morning when it was still as dark outside as it was in my room, and knowing you were right there next to me, your breathing as soothing as the warmth of sunlight on a cold winter day. Knowing that wherever I was, whatever I was doing, I was carrying a piece of your heart to fill out the empty space I left when I gave my whole heart to you. I didn't need a beat to keep track of where we were going, I always knew we wouldn't last for long. That's how fire works, the brighter it burns, the faster the flame dies. But I'd like to think that there's still some embers left deep down there under all the ashes. I can feel them, at least.

I don't know. I'm being stupid again. Why miss something that you lost because of your very own stupidity, and disability to spot the lights from a freight train when it's coming your way in the speed of light? That seems to be the pattern from which I've made my decisions so far in life, always with a bit of regret, always acting on impulses and what feels right for the moment. It serves me right things turned out the way they did. But I still cannot accept a defeat, I never could. And never will. As long as there is blood pumping through my veins, and as long as my heart beats somewhat regularly, I'll keep hoping, fighting, dreaming, wishing, breathing. And if that isn't good enough for you, then at least I've tried. And that means something, as much as you'd like to hide it, it really does.

Hey, aren't you forgetting something, pretty boy?


You heard me. You can't write shit like this in a diary you -know- she reads. You'll hurt her feelings. But then again... we've always been good at that. I never should have mentioned it...

Don't you worry. She knows. I've told her that I'm a wreck, and in some way, I believe she can see through my lies, even if she doesn't bother to tell me that she knows all about it, she still gets it. I'm both as happy as could be, and as deep down in this lingering darkness as I've ever been before. I am starting to fear the worst... the last few weeks have been stormy, with constant ups and downs, never any stability whatsoever. But there is something that's been building inside, merely an impression, that maybe... maybe, I've forgotten how to love. Or lost the ability to feel love, passion and intimacy as deep as I've felt it before. I've been desperately been searching for answers to why I'm becoming this way, or even if it is true at all. But the fear remains, and is another added weight on my leaded wings, further increasing the speed at which I plunge deeper into the dark spheres of madness and mental sickness. I fear I'm losing the last battle of my soul, that I'm slowly transforming fully into the beast I've been trying to keep locked inside for so many years. I fear I'm losing everything I've ever held sacred, everything I've ever wanted to love and keep safe.

You brought it upon yourself. Always remember that. If it's your guilty conscience that is weighing you down, allow me to put another heavy load on your back. She loves you. Yes, she does, she tells you she loves you. Can you live with not being able to answer her feelings with the same heat and intensity? Can you live with being just an empty shell of a man, trying to make his way through a life that already has been lost, condemned. You know there's always a place for you in Hell, just take a step and it will all be over. You'll feel at home with all the murderers, rapists, arsonists and thieves. Their conscience is as heavy as yours, and you've all lost that piece inside your heart that makes you truly human. Not that it matters now, you're far to stubborn to realize that you're fighting a losing battle. The weapons you wield are rusty, your armor is falling apart and your enemies are far too many for you to handle. But I like seeing you struggle. At least you look alive while you're doing it, burning brightly as you try to master every obstacle put in front of you. But then again, the brightest flame burns quickest, and you're almost out of fuel. Only moments away...

Shut up. You forget that I've been getting used to your poisonous words over the last few years. And I'm starting to think that I'm finally beginning to learn how to ignore them. Not fully, but still enough. And time is running out on me for now, I have other things to do...

Oh yeah? Like what? Mourn another one of your losses? Get just a little bit more insane? Yearn for everything you want, but cannot get?

...once I can make you shut up. I'll make it happen. Just like that. Poof. Gone. I'm moving on. I'm moving on, everythings alright. I'm alright. I'm fine.

I'm not alright.


  1. Louis förtjänar inte att bli sårad. Snälla, sluta att tänka på marlene, åtminstonde för hennes skull.

  2. T - Vad får dig att tro att det är Marlene jag tänker på? Du vet bättre än så.

  3. För att det brukar vara marlene?

  4. Inte det senaste året åtminstone, och inte heller så den här gången heller.