Carry with us

10.57 PM, Jönköping, Sweden

Dear diary,

It's been too long, as usual. I'm getting sick of spilling my anguish over these blank pages, so sick of trying to explain to the world what I'm suffering from. So I stop, but from time to time I come back to make a post. And now it feels like I have nothing more to say, but I'll try to give a sitrep at least.

Things are changing, both around me and inside of me. I feel different since we last met, dear old diary. I can't really tell whether I'm moving in the right direction, or in any direction at all. I'm just floating, slowly through this reality around me, feeling disconnected from it - like a leaf, in the merciless hands of the strong autumn winds. Most of the time, it's quiet inside my head. I can still hear the echoes, still feel the whispers coming from the dark corners of my mind, but the constant hell I've been through for the last couple of years have started to wear out its welcome. I have a feeling though that it won't keep quiet for long, maybe it's just licking its wounds from our last battle - and it wasn't the onöy one who got hurt. I've got scars of my own, scars I try to hide in my everyday life, trying so damn hard not to let myself be vulnerable in front of others.

The loneliness is the worst. I have a cronic feeling of loneliness and emptiness. In a room full of people I know, I still feel alone, like no one hears me talking, or my words come out distorted and twisted. Because of that, I get quiet, and when I'm quiet people think I'm shy or rude - and further increase their distance from me. And I'm still sleeping alone through the nights, my whole body is aching to hold someone close, to feel the warmth of another body next to me, and sense their heartbeats next to my own irregular beats, creating a soothing rhythm that propels me into peaceful dreams of a better tomorrow. A tomorrow where I'm tightly holding hands with someone my heart beats faster just by looking at. A place where I wake up every morning to the faint sound of breathing, bad-breath kisses on my neck, soft hands running down my chest. Somewhere I belong. And so I keep on dreaming. Solitude is my new curse, my cross to bear this time around - and I blame only myself. Myself and my fuckin' head playing mind tricks on me, fooling me into believing I don't need anyone, that all the girls in the world will offer their bodies to me - the great rockstar with the giant ego, and a neverending appetite for sex, booze, drugs, tits and rock n' roll. But that's not me, that's just a role I'm desperately trying to grow into. Learn to play it so well that one day I'll become that actor, our personalities meld into one. Some days I feel invincible, and that everyone wants me, I'm Mr.Perfect, with looks that kill, sharp dressed and smooth. But let me tell ya, that shit wears of faster than you can say "manic depressive!". The next second, I'm back to that dark fucking place again. And so the broken record plays...

I guess I've lost track of where I'm going. Things aren't moving that fast anymore, and I've lost focus. The band isn't going anywhere, we're losing members, and I'm feeling like my vision isn't getting through to the others. In order to fulfill my dreams, my companions must share my vision and my will to reach the stars. I find myself looking back into old memories once again. I find a kind of solace there that makes me both smile and weep, the emptiness they've put inside of me, and the longing to get back just to experince those times again. I watch old photos, listen to the same music, think of all the times I've had with people close to my heart. I'm growing older by the minute, and I still can't pull myself out of this damn chair, out into the world and make something of this life. But maybe it's too late for me now. Time will tell... and I hate that saying more than anything, cause' all time does is tell you how little there is left of it.

"Don't you want somebody to love? Need somebody to love?"