Dust devils and cosmic storms

11.21 PM, Jönköping, Sweden

Dear diary,

I'm sitting here with all the lights out, a couple of lit candles and a cup of tea. Trying to make it into some kind of evening ritual before I go to bed, to gather my thoughts and write something here. Today has been alright, left school before lunch today since I had nothing to do so I could as well go home and "study"... not much studying has been done, of course. Did some cleaning, way too dusty in here, and I'm beginning to think I'm allergic to dust, and it sucks... It means that it affects my singing, and since I'm already allergic to pollen it also means that I'm walking around with a running nose 360 days a year. Shit's fucked up.

I think I need to start reaching out for people more, instead of staying inside my shell to protect myself. I'm having trouble inspiring myself, or finding things that inspire me, perhaps there's some people out there who are able to light a fire inside me again? I can think of a few candidates already, people I've been talking to for a while, but never met. I've been stuck in this place for far too long, I need to get out and get some new views, see new places, meet new people. Maybe then, my armor will disintegrate and fall of me like autumn leaves, rusted pieces of my past and concrete from the wall that has surrounded me for far too long... sure, I won't let my guard down completely, that would be foolish. But this time around, a guard post at the gate will do... not some majestic impression of the wall of China.

Also... I can't shake the feeling that I'm somehow being deceived. Something ain't right, I can feel it. I can't stand being everybody's fool. Anyway, time for bed... just a day and a half left in school this week.

Nowhere

10.06 PM, Jönköping, Sweden

Dear diary,

Woah. Almost 8 months since I last wrote in you. Have you missed me? I guess I've missed you too... but not enough to actually take the time to write a few words every now and then. So now I gently brush away the dust from your cover and pick up my virtual pen, and spill my soul on these blank pages...

...that is, of course, if there is any soul left in me to spill. I doubt it. But hey, first thing's first. Let's begin where we left off... I was living together with two friends here in town, but I moved out in February and now I'm currently living alone in my own 2-room apartment, just a couple of hundred meters away from my old one. Living alone is great, I can finally wander around naked without anyone screaming or fainting from the unpleasant sight. Also, I get that time alone that I need and can control myself when and how I choose to be around people. Apart from that... everything's pretty much the same. Well... I've started studying daytime now, welding. It's not that I'm actually planning to become a welder, I just need to survive. And to be honest, it sure as hell beats sitting at home all day long doing nothing. Plus, I'm actually quite good at it...

The band is going nowhere. We found ourselves a kickass drummer in November (yeah, I know... I've said this a couple of times before, but this time it's for real. He is everything I've been looking for in a bandmate.) and then got ourselves a lead guitarist in February this year, and since then we've actually begun writing a few songs, but things haven't been moving forward at all the last month. More about that later on.

Back to the pressing issue -and with the risk of sounding overly dramatic - I'm dead inside. It's true. If you'd split me in half, nothing but dust and corpses of dead moths would flow from my veins. How many times have we been through this? How many times have I told myself that I need to change, or bitched and moaned about me being unable to do so? I feel like a broken record, repeating myself over and over again. But this is for real. Back then, at least I could write about it. Now... nothing. Totally empty. No feelings. No emotion. No soul. Things that make other people cry or smile, leaves me unaffected. Indifferent. Unconcerned. Things that used to make my heart beat faster, now passes me by as gray matter. No wonder I can't create music, art or anything that requires any form of creativity.

Yeah, yeah... I fuckin' know what you're thinking. "Here he goes again, the sad clown trying to get some compassion from people around him." It ain't about that anymore. It ain't about trying to make others feel what I feel, or understand the things I go through. This time it's pure survival, without anything else blended into the mix. I don't get hurt, because there's nothing inside of me that can be damaged.

You can't break a heart that doesn't beat.


So I will keep trying... no - I will keep fighting. One step at a time, through this heavy mud, changing myself into what I need to be to take me to where I want to be. Maybe I'll fail this time too, and I'll keep posting these words until I grow old and die forgotten in some god forsaken hospital. Hopefully not.

And hey... it's good to see you again. And yes, you too...

Long time no see, bastard...