I don't really know what to write. That's pathetic. All I can think of is that daze I had a week ago and the confusion that left afterwards and pushed me into devastation that I'm in right now. I'm listening to the roadmovie breaking up special. Morphine, it's aching in my iPod. I'm not aching that much. But I am certainly petrified.
I wanna smoke in my bedroom, which I have done maybe once since I have been falling asleep in that room. Smoking here always has an emphasis. Smoking here is like getting proposed, or signing a million dollar contract, or burrying someone. Either happy or sad but with a certain significancy.
I don't wanna say it out loud, I don't wanna take it down, I don't even want it to revolve in my head. It's been playing with me for a while. Higly annoying and clandestine how the brain can easily lock out something for such a long time. Fucking brain. It let him having gone under my skin without me realizing it. I didn't even have to fight against it. I thought I was above it. I thought I ruled it. I thought that for the first time it cannot defeat me cause I didn't feel anything. Stupid motherfucker, that's what I was. Frankly it was so fucking obvious that I did, feel and I do feel. I hope for no sequel but I painfully know myself. My desire for feelings, my desire for drama, my desire for being hurt.
I don't even know what this is. Still there is a memory of the first time we met. The first touch, the first smile, the first denial, the first sceptical sentence, the first kiss, the first time his hands was on my back, the first light kiss I gave him on his forehead. The first time I got turned on, the first time I turned him on, and the first time I almost changed my mind. And I am again in one of those "first" occasions. For the first time I feel I wanna send him a message. For the first time I sit in my bed expecting something from him even though I know this is just so fucked up and twisted. I'm so terribly angry at myself.
I was sure I burried myself into an underworld with different emotions, visions, imaginations. I pushed myself living in a dreamworld. It fucking worked. I had loves from another dimensions. They never hurt me. They were so great not to fool with my heart, with my soul. And I was grateful for that. It was the most perfect relationship I've ever been. I gave up something but it meant I didn't need to give away myself.
Just recently with a tired hiss it has holed as a baloon. All these beautiful numbness I had, this mindless and harmless egoism is about to disappear. I could shout, scream at the top of my lungs. I started longing for someone. For an unexpectedly obvious person in a wrong place at a wrong time.
Trying to believe in my sceptical side who is unable to develope any mentionable emotion for anyone is the only thing that can make me ease. I had these flames before. They were gone just as fast as they flamed up.
Eventually I didn't smoke in my bedroom.
I wanna smoke in my bedroom, which I have done maybe once since I have been falling asleep in that room. Smoking here always has an emphasis. Smoking here is like getting proposed, or signing a million dollar contract, or burrying someone. Either happy or sad but with a certain significancy.
I don't wanna say it out loud, I don't wanna take it down, I don't even want it to revolve in my head. It's been playing with me for a while. Higly annoying and clandestine how the brain can easily lock out something for such a long time. Fucking brain. It let him having gone under my skin without me realizing it. I didn't even have to fight against it. I thought I was above it. I thought I ruled it. I thought that for the first time it cannot defeat me cause I didn't feel anything. Stupid motherfucker, that's what I was. Frankly it was so fucking obvious that I did, feel and I do feel. I hope for no sequel but I painfully know myself. My desire for feelings, my desire for drama, my desire for being hurt.
I don't even know what this is. Still there is a memory of the first time we met. The first touch, the first smile, the first denial, the first sceptical sentence, the first kiss, the first time his hands was on my back, the first light kiss I gave him on his forehead. The first time I got turned on, the first time I turned him on, and the first time I almost changed my mind. And I am again in one of those "first" occasions. For the first time I feel I wanna send him a message. For the first time I sit in my bed expecting something from him even though I know this is just so fucked up and twisted. I'm so terribly angry at myself.
I was sure I burried myself into an underworld with different emotions, visions, imaginations. I pushed myself living in a dreamworld. It fucking worked. I had loves from another dimensions. They never hurt me. They were so great not to fool with my heart, with my soul. And I was grateful for that. It was the most perfect relationship I've ever been. I gave up something but it meant I didn't need to give away myself.
Just recently with a tired hiss it has holed as a baloon. All these beautiful numbness I had, this mindless and harmless egoism is about to disappear. I could shout, scream at the top of my lungs. I started longing for someone. For an unexpectedly obvious person in a wrong place at a wrong time.
Trying to believe in my sceptical side who is unable to develope any mentionable emotion for anyone is the only thing that can make me ease. I had these flames before. They were gone just as fast as they flamed up.
Eventually I didn't smoke in my bedroom.
