This is my way of telling you the story of the road I walk upon. A tale about beating hearts, lost love and the habit of staying up all night long drinking. Coffee and cigarettes, my violent heart, getting lost in the music, city lights, reaching the speed of pain, the taste of blood, the nightmares, the screaming, fates colliding, love undying, forgiveness, selfishness, ego, drama and you and me and everything between. But mostly, it is about me and my sweet, sweet shadow. Enjoy.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Like an infection
1.49 AM, Jonkoping, Sweden
Dear diary,
Never thought I'd open up these dusty virtual pages again. Never thought I'd need to hear your voice echo through the empty halls of my mind. It wasn't supposed to be like this again, remember? I called it quits, I bailed out. I abandoned you before it was too late. And now I'm here, back on my knees, praying for someone to make the pain go away. It's no difference this time, yet it is different in a way. That feeling of numbness weighing down on me, suffocating me slowly, erasing every ray of light, and leaving only darkness behind. Complete, utter darkness. I live my life as a corpse, an empty shell of a man that was once so full of dreams, so full of hope... no more. I seem to have reached another turning point, or is it a dead end? I can't tell anymore.
I'm losing my grip. People slip out of my hands, out of my life, out of reach, out of sight. It's not that I don't know why - I know damn well why they leave - only the fact that I can't do a damn thing about it. Helpless, once again. I can't let anyone into my heart, into my mind, or into my soul. I just can't. Once they're inside, they'll hurt me like all the others, leave me broken down, defenseless. I have no other option, what I want to do has no effect on my mind, since it has made a decision. Letting people too close only hurts. That's why they leave. A hopeless crusade. A closed case. A waste of time. I can't feel what they feel. Can't see what they see. Can't force myself to take interest in any of them, except for the ones that appeal to my twisted side, and when they become out of reach, I rage. Rage at everything, a wrath that is uncontrollable, unstoppable, and leaves me with yet another lost friend. If I keep doing this, there won't be anyone left at all.
Time is drawing near, my dear. Didn't I tell you? Didn't I fucking tell you? You piece of shit. Worthless piece of shit. Ya really think anyone would want to be close to you? You said it yourself, you can't open your heart. It's closed. And it has been for a long time, I should know... I threw away the key. Embrace your fate, and stop whining.
I've given up hope once again. Nothing I thought would save me has been able to make any difference at all. I'm still here, square one. Haven't achieved anything since last time you heard from me. I know, I know, I promised myself I'd let go of all this drama... and just try to live without all this bullshit. Turns out it has become such a big part of me that I can't ignore it. It's almost like it's become a bigger part of me than myself. Like a cancer, mercilessly growing inside of me, twisting and mutilating my cells, turning them into broken shadows of my old self. Every time I close my eyes, everything starts spinning. I see my end drawing closer, fast. People leaving. People getting tired of not getting through. And all I can do is watch, almost like a horror movie. Why still hold on when you've already started falling?
Once again, dear friend... I told you so. There's never been anyone else but you and me. The memories? To hell with the memories, they're only scars that want to make themselves heard and bleed through again. They'll always be there, 'cause you're not making any new ones. You'll always be nostalgic, always wanting to reach out into the past and grab that shining light that was once your soul. Well, it's gone now, isn't it? It's just you and me, pal... you and me.
Until the bitter end.
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I won't consider you as a loss, 'cause you sure as hell never considered me as one.
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