night statements

If M.T. was the key to survive the depression, D.T. will be the key to get out of it (I hope).

All this inner rage and grief has tought me that the best when it comes to social interactions, is to be calm.

Once I lowered my expectations on humans and almost choked.

numb

What is this so called recovery that feels like numbness across every inch of me? Good or bad, the moments were always so intense and full. Now that I've believed in this cure, I just salute my soul while it empties everything within it, little by little.
How can I accept the existence of this sickness if I cannot understand the cure for it? But how can I forgive my self, if I do not accept that it has been here, and oh god I knew it was here. I remember the countless nightmares occuring both through the day and night. I recall the only light being the path that led to a bigger destruction. The biggest destruction. Still, I was so naive and dumb as to give promises and contracts, that were always hiding deviously beside me, waiting to explode and tear anything that dared to look at another direction.

And when the time came, the time when the eyes broke free and were able to examine everything without limits, not only did the vows attack, but I was also doomed to falling forever and alone, because I had lost the only person that I truly relied on.
No matter how hideous the past year has been, I was never fully honest to anyone about my worst nightmares and fears, except for that one person. And how nice it was back then when I would slowly start shaping the fluid dreads with him and his help, and sharing the life and the experiences, and how bad it was that I did not understand that it would probably not last forever.

How can I look into your eyes again when you ask me not to walk away, and beg me to stay because I'm the only thing left in you. I know that once I said the same thing, and felt the same. I remember clearly how it feels to be so lost and traumatised that the only thing you can rely on is a certain being.
I remember how hard it is. And I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I don't care if apologies cannot reach anyone's ear anymore, I still am sorry, and I still hate this life and its stupid conditions and I still love this philosophical and idealistic idea that I could see in you.

But that is not enough. Hating mother nature is not enough, like loving you is not enough.

Or maybe it is enough.

Maybe it is more than enough. Maybe it is so much that I am not able to handle it anymore. Maybe I'm so weak that I am giving up on everything just because my heart couldn't be bigger.

night questions

Hasn't it been a countdown? Haven't we lost everything yet? Do I still have something to wish for, or has it all been scattered away by tears? I've wished for so much. So much. I know why. I'm a coward that's why. I've spent hours wishing in gods I don't believe in and praying for things I'm not even sure I want.

When will I start feeling purely nice in these arms too? I wonder if my mother's ever been right about me being rude to people and becoming disliked. I've come to realise, though, right now, that the closer someone comes to me, the most this tendency arises. 

I can love. I can love unconditionally, and easily. I can act kindly and excuse any kind of behaviour. I don't have a problem with that, on the contrary I believe it to be something good and beneficial to me. However, the past years it's always been one sided. Nobody ever loved me back this way. Many people liked me, and appreciated me, but not love. 

I understand, now, that this savage and despised feeling of hatred only finds ground when two hearts are deeply connected. When two minds open their doors and show their vulnerabilities. Only then.

Maybe that is why I've become so extreme in my reactions. Maybe that's why, now everytime I cut my skin I don't even have to try to make deep and non stop bleeding wounds. It's not just a way to stay connected with the idea of death, anymore, it is a screaming and thirsty need.

farewell

I look at old photos and wonder when did I lose everything so much that even looking at two or three month old photos seems so strange. Not a month has passed and kept the same vibe as the other. No coherence or consistency. And how far away the first months of the past year felt, until everything I'd built since then, started slowly but steadily collapsing again.

How stupid I must have been to think that I could progress along with someone, who I loved when I was falling apart and when I could not see anything, but still had so many things to reach for. The only difference was that I was stronge enough and able to overcome the difficulties, not by forgetting them, but by achieving the ability to know them and move freely inside of them. Never have I forgotten all the things I said and believed about life, but instead of pathetically mourning I wanted to make the most of them somehow. 

I got over all the difficulties I faced with you with the excuse that I could die if things got worse, because I didn't have anything else. Now it's not like that. I have more things now. I love more things now. 

I'm sorry.