April 2011
1 post
160411180411190411
There’s this red censoring flag in my mind blurring out all thoughts I’ve been needing to put into perspective. I can’t get a hold of things in the middle of this despair, hunger, lust, desperation and guilt. What am I doing? What am I thinking? This isn’t me. What is me?
Images flash in my mind. The past, the present… the future. My mind is on ecstasy; everything...
March 2011
1 post
Bulimic with life.
So here I go, on a fire spitting spree of words that have been bubbling in my mind and eating me slowly from the inside. I guess I should spit them out before I’m completely consumed.
Maybe it’s the flooding of papers and study sheets, the soar and cramping hands, the 5-hour-sleep-per-night nights and the constant migrane that have been my loyal and clingy...
December 2010
1 post
Wow it’s been so long since I’ve last written here. I didn’t even realize that I started to have followers.
I’ve been telling myself that I need to get back to writing. I need go gain my sanity back and I need to stop feeling like I’m floating and hovering everything that happens. It feels like I’m on this cloud, where I’m waiting for things to fall into...
June 2010
3 posts
I just want this to be over already.
I want to be done with exams, fast forward my workload into the next five years, when I’m finally done with school. I constantly find myself mourning over my teenage years, the golden days. If not, I find myself contemplating on the future, but just not now. Because I’m up to here with orals and writtens and revision sheets. I’m up to here...
I caught myself
I’m forcing myself to write. It’s like this fear in me to start again. My mind has been such a blurry haze ever since last Thursday. It was like this 360 that shook up everything. I finally got a mac, and I finally got in the band.
Not that I was dying to. It was more of a confidence thing. I’d walk in the studio and hang out with the boys anyways cause their studio was colder...
April 2010
4 posts
“There it goes again… the fear of being alone and lonely.”
I think I’ve figured it all out. 17 for me, has got to be the most revolutionary, even more than my tattooed 14. Needless to say, I’ve done quite a bit of growing up, and most of it, I’m still mourning about. Not because I regret it, but because I know that now, there’s no turning back, ever. There’s no refresh button or a backspace key for these sorts of things you...
It’s been a while since I last wrote. It’s 2AM and I’m lying in bed, the taste of cigarettes still in my mouth mixed with the crackers I’ve eaten in an attempt to stop my grumbling stomach from screaming. Alcohol free, it doesn’t quite feel the same, on a Saturday night. Two hours ago, my phone rang and your familiar name blinked on my screen, as I picked up and...
i hope you didn’t drive too fast on your way home… they wouldn’t have let you drive 150 anyways, with all the humps and everything. but still. i still don’t fully understand why you’re feeling bad, you put too much blame on yourself. and you always tell me i blame myself for everything. . knowing you, you’re probably interpreting the whole situation as something...
March 2010
2 posts
I can’t even find it in me to write, how sad is that?
The only thing I’m grateful for now is him. He’s there and he doesn’t quite understand my fear of relevance to anyone, and why i, out of all people don’t deserve it. He doesn’t understand that it’s not normal for me not to get blamed, to be prioritized and loved like that. People always leave right? ...
George Bernard Shaw once wrote: “There are two tragedies in life: One is to lose your heart’s desire. The other is to gain it.” Clearly, Shaw had his heart broken once or twice. And Hansel said to Gretal: Let us drop these bread crumbs, so that together we find our way home, because losing our way would be the most cruel of things.” And losing your way on a journey is...
February 2010
8 posts
My knees are week and my heart is beating at a rapid pace. I looked at the mirror to check if a strand is out of place or if my mascara ware smeared. My bra was carefully chosen and my shirt is seductively semi-see through. My lips are longing and my neck is bare. All I want in this moment is to feel you and to breathe you in as your fingers trace goosebumps on my back and mine tangle with every...
So I’ve thought about it, and right now, the way I see it, there are two courses of action I could take. Right, so the first one is the straight up, get this shit done, cause I don’t want to deal with your egocentric self-pity crap. And the second one is the sympathetic and apologetic friend approach. Hmmm, this seems like a really hard choice to make.
Actually, if I had one, it would...
sweet disposition.
“So let’s talk sex. Yes, there isn’t much need to be shy or prude...”
Another friday afternoon, another week passed. These emotions are all bubbling in my chest, waiting for that one drop to make it overflow. Like a strong gushing river of schizophrenia in my veins. Or maybe was it just alcohol that I meant? I sound alcoholic, reading in retrospective. I’m not. I just write when I’ve had time to think, or at least when everything becomes a blurry haze of...
What kinda scares me is the fact that you say all these nice things to me and how I respond to them. I know it seems like I don’t really listen, and I don’t really care, but it’s more like I’m not really wanting to. I don’t want to convince myself that you’re here, and you’re for real. Because when I start accepting that fact, I know that eventually...
January 2010
2 posts
So, why do i pour out my raw uncensored feelings again? Because feelings are like files to me: you need to categorize them and then classify them to fully get a hold of things. Right now, I don’t know what I’m feeling. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking. Maybe the smell of smoke in my hair and my unwashed face are that are the ones talking. Maybe it’s my perfectly straight...
I’m cold. These walls are closing in on me as the music resonates in the empty room. I close my eyes to take everything in only to realize that this is the first time I’m alone with my thoughts in a while. A very long while. The first thing I would answer when someone would ask me how I’m doing and what’s new would be fine, nothing much, and then change the awkward topic to...
December 2009
3 posts
It would be so much easier if I knew what you were so mad about, because I’m not going to apologize for something I didn’t do wrong. You telling me you got home is already irrelevant, whether there was alcohol in both our systems or not. It’s not fair when you tell me I was “late” because we both know that you were very much well aware about my whereabouts and what I...
So I’m kind of getting frustrated waiting blindly behind this multi faced window for your name to pop up. Passively waiting for my phone to ring and on the verge of getting a migraine, I’m fighting this urge to punch you with every bit of my strength. I wonder if it’s simply because it’s that time of the month. Or maybe because I miss you. But then I don’t understand...
I think, I think too much. About everything. Stress is just a state of mind, and what a state my mind has been in these past few days. Fatigue crept in slowly, and now it’s rushing through my veins. Because every small comment eats my up inside and makes me want to hit somebody and cry. Because not hearing the words I want to make me feel irrelevant and because low red numbers over 20 make...
November 2009
6 posts
I smell like you.
I wish I had more time to do something else. Wasting away, as I stare at the clock ticking every second away, I find myself always waiting for that bell i hate so much. Every 50 minutes, it’s always the same 5 second sound that marks the end of a period. And then I get home and realize I’ve wasted so much of my day. All this time I’ve been half listening, half thinking of...
“22.11.09
I often complain about the things I want but can’t get. Clothes,...”
“26.09.09
Hey… I’m really x100 sorry about tonight… Ur...”
oily marks appear where pleasure moments hung
t’s been awhile. The view from up here isn’t as good as I though it’d be. Everything’s blurry, hazy. Distant calls and echoes are all that resonate in my ears. You might as well be screaming in my ears and yet all I’d hear is a faint whisper. Slow motion in a fast paced world. It seems like days go on and on for hours unend, nights turn into days and weekdays into...
October 2009
2 posts
I’m afraid of being too fragile, too vulnerable, too exposed, too bare, too raw and too open. You ask so little of me, and yet it seems like I’m giving way too much already. I’ve got trust issues and I don’t want to be made into a monster after all this, all because I keep coming back to the night where you proved you could be everything yet deadly to me. Everytime, it...
You fucked up. Bad. But then I still find myself standing in the rain infront of my house barefoot at 1 am with my hands in the back pockets of my shorts and my hair dripping wet staring directly at you as you give me the look while telling me you’re trying so hard not to kiss me. After spending the night in, because of the bad weather, eating pizza and changing dvd’s every 10...
September 2009
6 posts
Self discipline. Because I’d rather wonder what, than seem too much. Right? Therefore, nothing is based around you. Of course not.
Epic
It’s funny how you realize later on that you weren’t actually that foolish when you were younger. More optimistic, repeating phrases that turn into chants and shape your way of seeing things. You have to believe in believing, that’s what we’d always say. Now older, cynical and pessimistic, everything just seems to feel like one thing after another is specifically crafted...
Catch
This just isn’t normal. Empty conversations that are hopelessly filled with random one liners and awkward a fraction of a second too long stares and just the want to reach out and feel are not really things that should be happening right now. There’s so much more to do out there. So much to see, so much to learn. And while every song will somehow remind me of what used to be, while...
Cyclothymie
Jean qui rit Jean qui pleure, c’est toi. Tu es quelqu’un de très vif, très joyeux, boulimique de la vie. Mais, sans trop que l’on sache pourquoi, tu te sens mal quelques minutes après, mélancolique, presque suicidaire. C’est un état proche de la dépression nerveuse, mais qui semblerait suivre les personnes qui en souffrent durant toute leur vie. Tu n’arrives pas à...
Perfect setup for failure.
Riding shotgun, with small raindrops falling on the windshield of your half a wreck of a car, tell me that ‘I don’t really feel like driving fast right now.’ while the streets are practically empty and it’s the middle of the night, means something. It’s got to. Because conversations like that don’t happen every day. And because it just feels so right. Because...
Stockholm Synrodme
So, it finally hit me today. What I’ve been subconsciously pushing out of my mind for ages now. What seems like it’s been there all along after all. But it doesn’t make any sense. It doesn’t even fit. I don’t want to be put in the situation in which every petty meticulous detail is made a big deal of and twisted into my conception of truth. But it’s like a...
August 2009
4 posts
Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hands?
I don’t know what I want. I do know what I lack. Or at least I think I do. The secret states that you should know what you want and tell the universe about it, so it can conspire to do so. I’d like to believe it, but I think I’ve grown to be too pessimistic to believe anything of such bullshit. Because champagne filled conversations late at night and cigarette breaths don’t...
I had to tell myself to shut up several times today, these thoughts were getting tiring to even process alone. My forehead won’t seem to relax. My lips are still pursed even though i try to smile. Anyone who tries talking to me irritates me. slow dancing in a burning room- I don’t even have the heart to finish this article.
3 tags
Excuse me sir, you look pretty decent. May I...
It’s one of those things that should’ve been, like those kinds of things you missed out on by a fraction of a second… You skim the skin too light by a blink of an eye too much and realize it a heartbeat too late. And then it kinda eats you up inside, bit by aching bit as your imagination starts running wild, picturing things that could only be thought of now, and you look back on...
you were the one i tried to draw.
January 1970
1 post
get a hold of yourself. get a hold of yourself. get a hold of yourself. get a hold of yourself. get a hold of yourself. get a hold of yourself. get a hold of yourself. get a hold of yourself. get a hold of yourself. get a hold of yourself. get a hold of yourself. get a hold of yourself. get a hold of yourself. get a hold of yourself. get a hold of yourself. get a hold of yourself.