Sad thought from a happy day?


Today I went out with my Lilly, her boyfriend and her nephew(and boy, has he grown!!). We saw the new Spiderman movie. I wish I could’ve heard Michael Keaton’s real voice instead of the French dub, but what d’you want? We’re not in Lille. The €€€ fly but your 20170715_122537-1expectations can DIE. Not really kidding, but you can laugh! I do cos it’s saaaad 😦

Everything was fine until we sat in the cinema and they started chatting together and I was left with my thoughts and the darkness(not really at first but it already felt like it).

[ I will try and be as short as I can because I am tired right now and at home. Honestly, as much as I’d have lots to say and write, I can’t just spend my time on a computer/phone. I take pictures and post them when the internet allows it but even if it means not doing anything or simply staring at my mom all day, I’m spending as little time as needed on the internet. ]

And as I sat there, she started speaking; that voice that just knows not how to lift me up. I tried to fight it and keep busy, devour my popcorn before the screen is even turned on, stare at the ceiling, listen to my friends’ conversations… But nothing worked. She just talked and talked. She put me down. She did not hit where it hurts, on those swollen bits of me I’m used to pressing on whenever the challenges get a bit too heavy and I fall. She hit on one of the biggest insecurities of mine… And that is, the stupid storm.

That voice wasn’t telling me how bad a friend I am, how boring, nor how I’ve been looking fatter lately, how I might not be as strong as I thought. No, she did not mention any of those things, because they weren’t so important at that time. The storm was the real thorn on the sole of my foot which I had to push deeper in, jump on and torture myself with.

She was telling me how weak I was.

Just a moment of slight darkness and I was gone, gone with the winds of despair and self-loathe. All it told me was “Look at you, the movie’s not even started yet and you’ve already let your thoughts flood you and drown you. Just a minute in and you’ve been reduced to a quiet piece of shit, and nobody even notices.”

I wasn’t putting the blame on my friends for not noticing me getting quieter and slowly fading in the background, it was all on me.

And the worst part was that, with all this already heavy enough bullshit in me came a crippling guilt which glued me to my seat. How could I be feeling bad and having all these thoughts run through my head while I was with my best friend and expected to be all about the good time? How could I just start thinking of myself and let sadness fill me while sitting next to my best friend whom I love and whose presence just completes me? I just felt bad for feeling bad, which is a feeling I’m sure a lot of people can relate to. And it sucks.

I had all these racing dark thoughts, sad ones and those mean ones pressing on my other weaknesses. But this voice was the loudest, the narrator of that afternoon. Because that’s what it was doing, narrating with acid words the mayhem in me as I sat near my dear best friend and her close ones.

And maybe the reason why I couldn’t fight it is because I agreed with it. The voice was right. I was being assaulted by those razor-sharp thoughts while there was still light in the room and I wasn’t on my own.

I don’t think that I can enjoy going to the movies anymore.

And that’s how I came to this conclusion.

I used to enjoy this because it was a way to keep me completely distracted from the bullshit inside and outside but just like a lot of things, it seems it’s not enough anymore to anesthetize my restless self. So maybe I should just stop going. I can still watch movies at home and it’ll be just the same but with more food! 😛

But really though, it sucks to pay so much money to sit in a dark room full of strangers enjoying a movie while you’re just melting on your seat and having multiple life crises at once. I can still enjoy it but it leaves me so messed up. And I feel even more alone like this, because I’m trapped in myself and no one can possibly know and it physically hurts.

Is it worth it?

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“help i had a good time”

It took me about thirty to forty-five minutes to get somewhat focused on the movie rather than my thoughts and hands. Just like it did, back when I still went to class, for me to calm down from my anxiety fits. It’s not as much a torture, honeslty. But it’s just not enjoyable, I’m so uncomfortable when this happens and I can’t escape. It’s actually pretty horrible.

So, yeah, this happened; again. I had a good time. I had a good afternoon. I was with my best friend and on the ride back home, even though I wasn’t feeling so well and quiet as fuck, she managed to make me smile and laugh and speak.

It was good but it was also really bad. And as happy a day it was, all it leaves me with, sadly, is this thought: I don’t think I can enjoy simple things anymore because I’m a wreck. I’ll try to hold on to the light of this day and the smiles and the good. But I seem to have discovered that brains tend to focus on the bad memories, or maybe that’s just me.

Everything is exaggerated in this 5″2 factory and well, I’m tired; I don’t want to type anymore.

That’s gonna be it. Longer than I thought it’d be, but I’m a fast-typer! 😛

Until next post, just, breathe. ❤

 

The Fighter in Me


I’ve been a waste of space lately. Let’s be honest; this isn’t an overstatement. A piece of shit. My demons have gotten me really down and I’ve been a lazy leech just feeding on nothingness.

I got down and I stayed down, figured “hey, I’ll just bury my head in the ground for a few decades, no big deal” because I just couldn’t take this life so I just tried my best to ignore the fact that I exist. I was having an existential crisis and I just couldn’t be bothered to actually deal with it or with any of the storm’s bullshit so I just looked away.

However, yesterday (which is now two days ago) as I got out of the bus (I took the wrong one) and walked (while texting my anxiety away, narrating my stupidity to my bff) in a haste (I was late) to my therapist’s office (what a pretty messy morning, I swear), I heard a tiny *click* coming from the back of my head. As I raised my eyebrows and my eyes grew to be the size of the moon, I realized something.

Somehow all this early morning anxiety and lack of sleep had managed to trigger the right switch and unlocked a tiny little door from which came a revelation. I didn’t have much time to actually even begin to touch it with the tip of a finger that day because I was so tired. When I got back home, just slipped on my good ol’ depressed pants and trustworthy “what’s the point” shirt and faded to black once more.

But today; I mean, yesterday (what is time, I ask, what is TIME), I was getting really excited about going outside to explore a nearby place which I pass by when I take (the right) bus to see my therapist (who’s actually a nurse??). So, as I waited for the sun to just stop being so sunny so I could step out and do the adventure thing without burning to my death, I actually had time to let the revelation sink in. And just as I was ready to walk out the door, I had to jump on a piece of paper and pen to scribble all the words that just rained on me as it suddenly hit me and I saw it.

I saw the fighter in me.

I’ve been hiding, running away and just bathing in denial, forcing myself to ignore pretty much all that there is to life. I had completely given up on trying and was looking very seriously into giving up on everything and settling for a life into the nothingness. And yet, even as I, on the surface, was giving up, it was here in me and still doing its job. The fighter in me, that part that just doesn’t know how to give up and always fights for my life, even when I feel that I’ve indeed given up.

When I sat at my desk that morning the day following the *click*, I realized that, even though if not as intensely as I was supposed to, I indeed thought about those things that I was trying so hard not to think about while I was “wasting my days away”.

I was convinced that I had managed to give up for once and that I truly was on my way to that impossible reality where I don’t bother nor believe in dreams, light and a greater use of my time on beautiful Mother Earth. I truly thought that I had manage to kill all the light left inside of me and to be honest, I was actually happy about it. Because, let’s face it, this whole existence and fighting against the current to do things that you love and be a bigger “you” it’s just so exhausting and frustrating; so, managing to give up was actually a relief.

Now I wouldn’t have to worry about energy. I could be tired all the time and it wouldn’t matter because nothing would matter anymore. I could just bathe in darkness all year long and just lie on the floor, wait for the lightning to strike me and put an end to the joke. Nothing mattered. I had succeeded in taking away all of the anxiety triggers, all the problems, all the overthinking, all the horribly demanding efforts to go against the storm to do all those things and also all the good stuff like love and vegetables.

I don’t wanna be a musician, an artist with four arms that do all these different things and doesn’t suck at them. I want to be a mashed potato without seasoning and extra extra extra cheese and a nice side dish of “nope; I don’t life”.

I FUCKING WISHED RIGHT?

Turns out that I was right when I thought that it was truly impossible for me to give up and that time I said that even when I was giving up, I wasn’t. I just didn’t know HOW RIGHT I was.

I tried my best to keep my mind busy and not think about real questions and about me. I managed to satisfy the apathetic monster inside, feed him all the junk it wanted and become it BUT in the mean time, I also managed to keep fighting in the right direction in a way! Of course, it wasn’t a super effective fighting as there was so little of me involved in the war which is why the *click* took so long to happen. But it was still fighting.

I fed the monster and let it invade the foreground so that I could find a place inside where it was calm, oh so calm, and I could actually think of my life without any parasite.

My choice of distraction could have actually given it away that I was truly just finding a less direct and brutal way to face those questions. And it did. But just after the *click*. I realized that the things I was obsessing over in order not to deal with an overwhelming life, decisions to be made and that crazy wish of living life were, deep down, helping me think exactly about what I was running from.

The fighter in me, the part of me, the spark, that will never stop fighting against the coldest winds that assault me or that I will willingly let in to freeze my soul. That part that, even when reduced to such a tiny size and beaten up, can still stand up for me and what I believe in and resurface, always, and shush the monsters back to their dark corners. (For a while at least, just enough time for the soldiers to get back to their positions and protect that fragile soul)

Now, I haven’t completely gotten rid of the filth that I smeared all over my weak flesh prison. But I’ve been feeling that spark and it’s slowly melting the grime away and bringing some heat back in the main circuits. The fighter is swimming back up. Ha ha! And well, now my laughs don’t just sound like a sound that I send to bounce against the walls and fill up the room with some “nothing wrong here” vibes. I feel less dead. And ready to put myself back on track again.

“You live and then you die, what’s the point anyways, right?” That just doesn’t sound like me. Now, I don’t know if it’s depression or any other part of the storm and I don’t care. I know it’s not me. I don’t think this truly. I’m a stupid child and I believe that there’s more to life than slowly dying as oxygen poisons us. I believe in love and in making dreams come true. And I believe in light in the darkest places. And I BELIEVE.

I might be a fatalist to some extent but I’m what I like to think of as an absurdity, a convention of paradoxes. I always find myself at both extremes at the same time. I’m a fatalist but also an optimistic and a pessimistic and a believer and a skeptic son of a blurp. I’m everything and nothing. But I’m not a person that gives up or one that doesn’t see the magic and beauty in life and beyond.

And now that I’ve slapped myself in the face several times and am slowly waking up from a dead man’s sleep, I can see it again. These words that I spoke, thought, while I was this unseasoned mashed potato (Ha ha, I’m sorry x) I’m almost done, bear with me! :-p ) weren’t mine. I don’t know which demon spoke them but they weren’t mine.

The fighter in me is a real part of me. Those demons and the storm are also a part of me but they don’t define me. They are not me. They are what I believe to be essential parts of the weather in me, the rain that rocks me in bed and make rainbows possible. (You need ups and you need downs, light and darkness; there needs to be a balance in things, this isn’t a happy fairyland where all is well.)

They are parasites but I need them and I cling to them. I need them here but they aren’t part of my identity, they are just these little dark monsters that keep this universe running.  But I am not by any means them. I am not the embodiment of my disorders and, as much as they affect my everyday life and constantly torture me, they are not part of my identity. I consider them parts of me in a way, part of my universe but not me.

Anyways. It’s going to take me a few days to truly get back on my feet and get rid of the bullshit I’m covered in. But I’m getting back up and that’s what matters in the end. I think I actually really needed this time on the floor and horribly dark fake happy days! It’s funny I guess in a way haha

So, I think that’s it. I’m glad I finally managed to get all these thoughts out of my head! I started writing this at 1AM today (which explains the confusion with time at the start of it! 😉 ) and now it’s 6PM. No, I wasn’t writing all this time! I slept and I’m still having very slow days. Recovery is a process and honestly, I was really on the floor so it takes some time to get back up and this time longer than what I’m used to. But yeah, I’m finally done getting it out of my chest and I can actually even more internalize the information now. It feels great.

I’ll end this post on a quote from Fran Bow ( a video game I obsessed over during my little “holiday”, let’s call it this from now on!). I don’t remember which character said it but I’m pretty sure it came from the journal that she found somewhere Idk. I think it’s really fitting with this post and well, off I go fixing myself up!

I don’t need to hide from pain anymore because it’s part of me.

Love is everywhere and in everything.

I enjoy crying.

I enjoy laughing.

I enjoy being alive.

Until next post, don’t lose yourself and keep looking for the light. It’s always there. Even the tiniest spark is enough to keep you going. There’s always light, somewhere, look around, in someone, in something, in the sky, anywhere, anyone, anything. And if you don’t see any light, then maybe think about opening your eyes? Maybe you don’t see because you’re not looking at it the right way. Or maybe you are the light and it’s hard to see yourself shining as you stand in the dark.

Keep running. ❤

P.S.: I, of course, still haven’t re-organized my blog and the categories are still pretty messy. But I’ll get to it eventually, don’t worry! And also, the little walk I had in the “park” that I discovered near where I’m staying was truly refreshing. There were so many ducks and I found two cats that let me pet them and aw, man, I felt really good out there! And I’m planning on going there again, maybe making a point of going every Sunday or so. 😀

worry flood


None of my worries is the least of my worries.

All my worries are on the top shelf and constantly flooding my mind.

I’m replaying everything in my head all the time.

From the tiniest detail, like that time I knocked over two plates of colored beads in kindergarten and had to stay during recess to clean up my mess.

To really heavier ones, like that time I made my mother cry.

In fact, when I say “tiniest detail”, I don’t mean it from my point of view. I mean it from most people’s, I guess. For me, all of these are as big as the other though I can make the difference between bigger ones.

They’re replaying in my mind most of the day. All the while I’m busy worrying about now and what’s next; what once was is always there, what happened haunts me all day long.

Sometimes not and I feel lightweight and I feel like I can go on and be reckless again and feel fine.

But then it comes again, at any random fucking hour of the day and it doesn’t stop. Not until I’ve collapsed under the weight of how my teacher called me out for daydreaming back when I was 7.

Everything sticks with me forever and I can’t just scrap it like a gum on the sole of my shoe. The darkness haunts me forever. I have all these creepy bugs with their small legs carefully buried in my scalp and there doesn’t go a day they aren’t hungry for some brain goo.

And when my mind obsesses over something good, how does that turn out, you ask? Well, it eventually figures out a way to darken the scene and have the prettiest flowers smell like rotten meat.

I hope I’m not my only friend because it seems I don’t want me to be happy. And fighting against myself sometimes just seem so pointless. I’m all I have, so why should I wage war upon me?

This endless worry flood has me sailing away on a self-destructive path. And I go with the flow.

All this dead water that infiltrates my lungs has such a bittersweet taste that I can’t even begin to think of letting go of.

This familiar taste, I could fight till the end.

But maybe I don’t want to win.

Maybe I just want it to flood me, just like that, and drown.

Because there is nothing sweeter than defeat and surrender to the storm.


I tried to work on Uncage’s next chapter tonight but I just couldn’t do it. My mind was too busy. And, look what I managed to vomit onto my keyboard. Isn’t it wonderful? Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts. Images. Words.

This isn’t real.


These hands are blurred. Saltwater is red. This isn’t real.

It comes in waves. I’m shaking. And then it stops. Why? And then it starts again. This isn’t real.

This room is so black, this screen so bright. This isn’t real.

I’m cold. I’m scared and alone. I’m terrified. Overwhelmed and empty. Two pills numbed me. This isn’t real.

I don’t want it to be real. Not anymore. This isn’t real. If this is reality, then reality is a prison and I want out.

Peter Pan, come take my hand; take me away, to a world I can breathe in without painting my lungs so black and decaying.

This isn’t real. I don’t wanna be awake if this is real.

I’m not even there.

Color Me Undead: a poem and a drawing


COLOR ME UNDEAD

Sunshine is a false friend.

The weather never stays the same inside this hurricane:

Sky’s grey, then blue, then white;

There’s sun and then it rains.

I just never know when it’s safe to rest.

I gotta keep on the move

Always, even when I lose my groove.

Paint me, pain,

For I am a canvas

And I’ve been blank for too long now.

The ground isn’t very stable.

I keep falling in these muddy puddles.

They take away my colors; leave me numb.

Mean cycle; recycle…

Mom, rock me back to my cradle.

Sunshine is a false friend,

The storm it never ends!

Paint me, pain.

Paint me again,

Over and over again.

Give me a face.

Give me hard times.

And, please, leave a trace.

Weather forecast calls for the peeling of my soul.

Layer by layer I melt away

Under the merciless waves

Of this self-perpetuated hell.

Acid rains devour my core.

I barely bleed as I lose my skin.

Colorless; colorblind; who am I?

Paint me, pain.

Help me be again.

Show me I’m alive,

Not living in vain!

Show me who I am!

Show me that I can

Be more than a stain…

There’s still blood in these veins

And strength in these legs.

And next time,

When it rains,

Come back faster to me, friend,

And paint me sane & chained!

Color me undead;

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The drawing was fueled by Halfnoise’s EP The Velvet Face and Paramore’s latest song(which I’m so asdfghjkl about). So I was really feeling that colorful but mournful vibe. Which was already pretty strong with my post Pain is a color and I’m a rainbowAnd the first draft of the poem was fueled by the drawing. And then the real thing was fueled by the storm and insomnia and also eating a green apple past midnight.

It’s 4AM, I’ll try to catch some Zs now. There’s so much I need to say; I’ll try to write a post and let it out, maybe this week, maybe later, I don’t even know anymore.

Until next post, don’t eat apples after midnight and get some sleep ❤

Bittersweet day


Today (just realized that as I type this that it’s past midnight… I just can’t seem to get it right haha) got dark really quickly and I didn’t do anything.

It was hard getting out of bed. I had this very long nightmare that ended on a musical number in my highschool AND primary school (melted together, of course) with many people I grew up with and the Jonas Brothers? Yeah, that was unexpected but funny; at least when I woke up. Early morning chuckles are such a nice way to start a day, especially when they echo on the walls of MY EMPTY ROOM. Ha ha. Just kidding. I mean, it is empty but I can’t seriously  exaggerate anything right now; not in the mood. 😛

But as soon as I got out of that magnetic poisonous sponge (okay, maybe I lied. I just can’t control it!) things were great. I picked up my phone and instantly bought the song of Mermaid, Yellow, check it out NOW(it’s only 0.99£/1,21€ to support an amazing band!). I love them so much and Mirela inspires me a lot as a singer and a woman! ❤ I felt really good doing that. It’s such a warm feeling to know that you’re helping and it’s even greater that you get instant satisfaction from it as now I have my own copy of an amazing song!

Anyways. Got breakfast, turned computer on, ready to get back on that self-portrait while there’s still “sun” outside (more like a really bright grey sky yeah) and everything. And then, I’m not sure what happened nor where time went but it got dark all of a sudden.

I was on Avenged Sevenfold’s website and just felt like a millionaire all of a sudden and bought a shirt and the digital copy of their latest album THE STAGE (which I still haven’t listened to… >w<). Now, don’t get me wrong. I had only come for a shirt (yeah that sure sounds “better”) but then I saw that they had a special deal where you got the shirt + the album and it was a great deal that I just couldn’t miss. Figured, hey, that’ll be a nice opportunity to listen to it (FINALLY!) and also support a band that I absolutely live for. So I did.

Then, the sun fell into the ground and my curtains embraced my windows. My room was pitch black. All of a sudden it was the middle of the afternoon and I was doing math, doing my books to be more precise and the whole Universe was being absorbed by a huge black hole sporting the Amazon logo and my stupid Facebook profile picture was shining like a fast food sign above the mass, like a bright marked path to HELL.

(See what I meant by “I can’t control it”? 😉 )

Now, of course, I hear you coming with the “Surely it isn’t THAT dramatic, Chloë.” but hear me when I say YES IT IS. Alright, maybe just tone it down a bit but it’s still a real rock that fell onto my head that afternoon. I was counting and counting and what I saw was the probability (91,47% to be precise; not) that I wouldn’t be able to afford the guitar that I want NEED next month and that I might have to go another month without guitar… Does that still sound overdramatic to you? Well, I don’t care because it is a big deal to me and the only thing I can do about it, well, I can’t do.

I’m already on the verge of losing my mind. It’s just really hard to be without the only thing you care about. And I really can’t sing freely in my room because I can’t take the pressure off my shoulders… The walls are too thin and I can’t be okay with bothering people so I always end up being quieter than I should. This is not healthy.

Anyways. I descended in a pit of darkness and could hear the voices again. Maybe I shouldn’t even buy a new guitar; at all. Maybe I should just go back home and give up this foolish dream. Maybe I don’t need it. And boy did I NOT miss them. Couldn’t shut them off on time, they said their lines then waited and it only took a few seconds for all energy to be drained from my body.

In an attempt to feel better  or at least recharge my batteries, I went to listen to the album which I had downloaded. I dragged my wiggly body to my bed and lied there under my covers, headphones plucked in my top quality phone. It plays the first song of the album which I’ve already heard as it was the single. I’m sooo overwhelmed by the music like really. Tears! Sure a bit from tiredness and discouragement but mostly the music. So beautiful and… I don’t have the words yet. I feel like I’m floating and it feels so good. Wait for it…. Only ONE song? Did I buy only one song for that much money? Or is something wrong with the download?

Of course, my mind was set on negative so I was irritated. I tried my best to keep calm. Was hard, especially when I had to restart my computer twice to finally log onto my account and see what’s up. I sent a mail to the customer’s service and quickly got a reply with a dropbox link to download it. It felt better already. But I was still discouraged. But just slightly; not as dark as before. Still had that bitterness in my mouth though.

Just that one song actually washed away half of the filth I spat onto myself after having touched the evil numbers relative to my money. I was calmer. Still very wiggly though. Hours later (don’t ask me what happened, Idek), I was picking a movie to eat food while watching even if the idea of food didn’t exactly sound okay to me at that moment. I settled for A Street Cat Named Bob and it was beautiful. It moved me so much and I loved every bit of it. If you haven’t seen it I highly recommend or maybe read the book or do both? Worth it!

As I finished the movie I checked a bit my Facebook feed and came across a gem. A beautiful bright one that came to me right when I needed it! A new song from LIGHTS and Steve James called Warrior. And that was, well, the cherry on a bitter cake.

I had a really long and negative day but I survived. And good actually came out of it. I helped a “baby band” which is growing so fast ( ❤ ), I ruined myself in the name of metal ( \m/ )… again!, I cried in front of a movie with a cat (for a change 😦 ) and I got some more fuel from LIGHTS ( 😀 ).

Also, after a really dark moment full of panic I rubbed my feet on the ground and reminded to myself that even if I can’t afford a guitar next month, I ‘ll still have the singing lessons and I’ll just have to be less quieter in my room (At least I’m not yell-crying like that couple on the 4th floor when they argue, it’s just singing and not so bad most of the time so turn it up! Just a notch though. I don’t think I can overcome the pressure I put on myself not to bother people with my existence. Wish the walls were thicker!). I’ll get that guitar eventually, i.e. SOON. And no, I won’t settle for a less expensive one. I’ve fallen in love. I’ll get her. And then I’ll have to work thrice as hard. Good times.

Anyways. That’s a really long post. I don’t think anyone reads these. x) At least I hope you skipped to the song:

 

Eyes open wide ❤

 

One night out.


The lights hurt me; the sounds do too. Everything hurts. I hide behind my hands. It’s not enough to calm me down. It’s not enough to protect me. It’s merely a shelter through which I can still feel all the bombs being dropped from the sky.

I’m not shaking. My breathing isn’t heavy. It’s all inside. I’m paralyzed. This is nothing, I say to myself. I’m not even shaking, this is stupid, I say. Why don’t you move? Why? But I just can’t. I want to cry. I’m mad at myself for being so weak. I’m mad at myself for being sick while my body isn’t showing any signs. I’m not shaking. I feel stupid. I feel selfish and useless. You’re full of shit, Chloë. I recall what he told me. I’m making all this up. I’m full of shit. I’m selfish and hurting everyone else. I’m sick. A mess.

My hands are glued to my forehead, like a small roof infusing my eyes with a light darkness. I can’t move. If I move I won’t be fine. I find a semblance of comfort and safety in this position. My body wouldn’t respond anyways, would it? If I try to move I’ll fall, won’t I? If I don’t see them, they don’t exist therefore they can’t see me and I can be fine.

I want to cry. I just want to go home. I want to hide. I need silence and the comfort of my bed to relive this moment over and over in my head and torture myself. I don’t want to be here anymore. But I don’t want to move. To get out, I’ll have to take my hands away from my face and that’ll leave me exposed. Exposed to the light, the sounds, the eyes, the room. I don’t want to face this. Maybe if I remain like this long enough I’ll disappear; or maybe they will. I want to try this. I don’t feel strong enough to look up. Staring at my legs feels good, okay? These blue jeans make my legs look fine. These are my legs. From my body, right?

I hear someone speak. It’s so far yet so close. She says “I’ll pay the bill and we’ll leave, okay?” No, it ain’t okay. It’s not. But if it isn’t for you I won’t get out of here. She gets up and grabs her jacket. I can’t get up. She’s waiting for me. Haven’t I ruined the night enough already? I don’t care if I have to rip my skin off to get those hands away from me. She’s mad at me. She’s disappointed in me. I ruined this for both of us. But mostly her. I get up. I’m sorry. But thank you, oh thank you so much. My skin is intact. But I’m burning up. We walk. I can’t look up. The noise is killing me. I stare at her feet and follow them. I say sorry to them. My tongue is missing. My mouth is a hollow cavity that cannot even gulp down enough air to ease the lightheadedness. Thank you for saving me from this hell. Does she know?

She stops many times. There are so many people. They’re all probably staring at me right now. “Look at that weird girl walking with her eyes glued to the floor.” “Why does she play with her hands like that?” I feel ugly. Stop staring, guys. We wait in line to pay. This feels like forever. I feel weird. I feel bad for leaving so early. I barely ate. I ruined this.

We walk out. I close my jacket and put my hood up. I don’t want to see the lights and surely not the people in the streets. I stare at the ground and let my feet do the job. I’m on autopilot. My body is. My mind is busy overthinking everything and going back on old and fresher memories and stamp everything with guilt, shame, doubt or anything else it feels the need to. I feel like crying but it won’t work. I let my feet carry me. They know the damn road too well by now. I feel horrible. Shaking. But not very much still.

Halfway home. Now I feel numb. I open my jacket. It’s getting hot in here. Get rid of the hood. The light doesn’t hurt anymore. I don’t feel very real. I think about my small room and how it’s devoid of people; how it’s devoid of the outside world. I feel sad. Is this how my life shall be till the end? I don’t like being alone. I don’t like this poisonous bubble. But part of me doesn’t want to pop it; not that I could.

We’re getting there. I see a group of people not so far from the main entry. I flinch for a second but keep going, staring back down.

Finally inside. I get rid of the damn jacket and walk into the bathroom. I’m slightly shaking and my breathing is heavy but not so much. I take my clothes off and wish someone would do it for me. This is so tiring. I manage. I get in the shower and almost burn to death. I can’t think fast enough. After three tries, I get the right temperature; not really, but good enough. I stand numbly under the water and let it wash away the infinite bullshit I am covered in. I can’t cry. I’m bored. I get out.

Now I’ve got to put clothes on. The. Struggle. I don’t feel anything anymore. I brush my teeth. Boy, do I look ugly. So much darkness on my face. My soul leaked again, I think. I don’t even laugh at my own jokes. Great, I think, my favorite kind of nights!

I stare into space as I mechanically fill my bottle of water and sit on the bed. I grab my computer. It’s so slow. Please, don’t do this right now. I need some music. It’s finally on. Struggling to give me what I ask for, but hey, I can’t complain. “Like master, like pet” or whatever. I finally get my music. I hesitate. I don’t know what I need right now, I think. I listen to one song. Then another one. Still not it. I DON’T KNOW. I finally settle for BMTH’s That’s the Spirit album and open my WordPress tab.

I type down some shit on a draft. Things I thought of in the midst of my freaking out at the restaurant. I’m always amazed at how, through all the mayhem inside, my mind can still think “Hey, that could be a great start for a poem!” or “Next. Best. Saddest. Song. Ever. Will write!” Oh, how artistic do we become when we’re at our worst!

I open another post and think “catharsis”. I start typing what I think will be a poem but soon turns out to be a weird somehow vague post about how fucked I am. I’m hungry but I brush it off; my body won’t accept it, I won’t swallow and ugh.

I finish it and re-read it at least a thousand times without changing one word. But just to be sure, you know. I put some space in there. Doesn’t that take away from the spontaneity? I thought it had a better impact without all these spaces. It felt more like the actual thing that way. I keep the spaces so that if anyone actually reads it, it won’t be that much a pain in the ass.

I post it and pick my 3DS in the hopes of finding some peace of mind. My stare is still very far away. I’m not here anymore. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be back in the cockpit. Maybe not. Every day is a surprise. What will I get? What degree of hell? How will I manage? Usually, not so well. Ah, can’t wait!