Love, baby

Lights flashing on your windowsill,
Enveloped by the indigo haze of a lamp,
And the clouds of smoke built up,
From countless cigarettes,
You can’t help but smile.

The loneliness eating away at,
The remnants of your fragile mind,
Seems worth it,
Because it feels meaningful.

You would not exchange these,
Countless hours of thoughts,
The endless glasses of wine consumed,
All dedicated to one being,
As little he may care for you.

Irresistable melancholy,
Fills the time you have to yourself,
While you enjoy it,
Through the songs and memories,
Which bring it all together.

Not a day goes by,
In which you don’t indulge in this ritual,
Of remembering what made you weak,
Of what made you feel love,
Of what let you dream.

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In the Attic of My Mind.

The fact that you despise me,
Despite only having seen my good side,
Petrifies and destroys me,
Whenever I catch myself thinking about the things we’ve seen.

Polished against haphazard,
Me against you,
A lonely heart wanting to give all,
Belligerent in this fight,
Against complete apathy.

Don’t let me slip back into the despair,
Of one-night stands,
Walking home at eight in the morning,
Blending into the crowd of put-together people,
My make-up running,
In my dark and lacy clothes.

You knew,
That I loved you,
But you threw it away,
When the going got tough,
To pursue someone else.

Since I’ve been loving you,
I’ve lost my mind,
Colours, dizziness, ideas,
Overtake my conscious being,
Leaving my soul in the attic,
Of a broken mind.

Another (very) personal post.

After two strangely averted suicide attempts just this year and several failed attempts to go to a therapist, I feel quite lost.

It’s an indesribably disgusting feeling to appreciate all you have and yet at the same time to want to throw it all away.

Every single day is a new day of you chanting your resolution, as if it were a prayer – I’m going to change, I’m going to leave the house, I’m going to write, I’m going to read, I’m going to do … anything but lie in bed and think.

Yet it never happens, unless I don’t want to let someone down. Someone who has made plans with me. At least I can still function when it comes to that.

But how long before I can’t leave the house altogether?

Because of the fear that people will just give me a look? Because of the fact that I don’t even feel like I need food anymore? (which has been the case for months)

Even when I go for groceries, I always face the struggle of whether to buy alcohol.

And even though today was my ‘new start’ once again, I bought wine. And I nearly cried in the store, because I could not resist buying it.

I have not had a day without alcohol for over two months.

All I want is to be happy again, without needing something to make me feel happiness.

To just be happy.

If it sounds cliche, it’s because it is, but one must appreciate the fact that I haven’t truly felt this emotion for a long time.

I can’t see my future. At all. As hard as I try, my imagination is limited to a measly few months.

And that truly adds to my feeling of not being needed in this world, if I can’t even imagine my own future, let alone to try and improve someone else’s. (which would be my only goal as a lawyer if I was to finish my education)

I need to stop this emotional outburst, but let’s just say that this is a very, very small fraction of what is constantly going through my mind every second of the day.

[press repeat]

Cheeks a shade of electric crimson,
Cut with a sharp line,
Like a New Romantic,
Looking for a love,
In these modern times,
You blow clouds of smoke,
At the open window,
Consumed by thoughts,
Of your tormentor.

You live on the smallest of signs,
It takes a lot to love him,
And you know,
That you can’t be bothered anymore,
Throwing on your sequined jacket,
Heading out the door,
You cast another look at the phone,
Just a look of love,
At an object which now represents,
All the pain of loving him.

Lost in a medley of tunes,
And the loud laughter of your people,
You’re falling into a sinkhole of memories,
You need the ecstasy and tragedy,
That comes with being near him,
Sip your drink and give them a smile,
Show them the perfect made-up exterior,
As your soul disappears piece by piece,
Into the past.

About Us.

You are the wilting crimson roses on my table,
Rotting, losing their beauty day by day,
As I stare at them with sorrow,
Wishing to preserve what will be lost.

I will always remember that evening,
When you sang those words to me,
‘You’re out of touch, I’m out of time,
But I’m out of my head when you’re not around’.

Softly, the disco lights turning blindingly around us,
You said that you missed this,
And I said that I did too,
But it was a lie.

I could not tell you,
That I could not live without it,
That this second beginning,
Gave me back my vitality.

Careful what you wish for,
As it becomes more painful by the day,
When I realize how little you care,
And how obsessed I’ve become.

Just A Look.

Look at me,
I’m the ice tea that will,
Quench your thirst on a hot summer’s night.

Look at me,
I’m made of a hundred percent pure spirit,
To intoxicate in the red lights of a bar.

Look at me,
I can be who you want me to be,
Because everything is always just as you want.

Look at me,
Last night’s escapades are still as bright,
As the smoke and lights of the venue.

Look at me,
Can you just imagine us,
Starting it again in the middle of this storm.

Why the fuck are you looking at me,
When you can’t even see
Just me.

Why the fuck are you looking at me,
If there are others around,
Who you value more.

Why the fuck are you looking at me,
Despite the apathy,
Which you harbour.

Why the fuck are you looking at me,
If you know that you couldn’t care less,
About these little occassions.

In the silence.

 

I hate thinking about revenge.

But unfortunately that is all I can think of when someone has been a complete jerk.

All I can do is imagine all the situations in which I would tell him;

“I’m so angry at you, I feel like I could slap you,”

“We are not friends though,”

“How could you be so heartless?”

And so on.

The fantasies fill my head, because I need an ending to this tale.

I thought closure was an abstract concept.

But it’s really not, since I’ve realized that I cannot live without it.

I will tell him how I feel.

If not for my benefit, then for the benefit of those who come after me.

Yet I know that one day, you will look at the person sleeping next to you.

And think that it’s someone else’s place.

My place.

I just couldn’t reach you in time.

But by then it will be too late for you and not me.