would be better off being a dead man
lay it all on me
destroy me while you still can

I figured out what I miss.

I seek confirmation in others. But the confirmation I get I do not believe in. I only believe critizism, because that's all I have ever taken notice of, all I've gotten. So I only trust in them who can critizise me. Maybe then I can learn to at least believe in some of the confirmation I get.

Little things matter. Little things make up my whole life. If you think you don't have a life because nothing big happens in it you're probably wrong, in my eyes at least.
Say something. Not just anything, but something... important, serious, something that matters, or just something that bothers you or something you're simply pondering about.



What you have never seems to be good enough.
There's always something more to need.

...ways once important now revealed as false
again the fear to go
and the longing for a home

like a filter always my own projections
on the things that I experience
trying to outrun
the stench of my decay

The wills of the world are tearing me appart. It's like having all limbs tied up and pulled in different directions. But according to the laws of physics I'll go my own way. But right now I'm still not sure what I want. It seems, for the most part, be about what others want for me. I have no say in the matter, cause either I can't convince or I'm just not heard. The latter can also end up in an argument cause they refuse to hear me.

Wherever I am, I'll remain a guest, until the day I die.
That's how it feels.

living within frames
my memories are frozen
falling apart
my brains are broken

These last few years are starting to feel like some step into something else. It's like I'm in the middle of taking a step into a new room, with the foot hanging in the air. And when I take that step, the previous position will be lost. It might leave a mark, but it will still be gone. And the door will close behind me, and what I have now will be gone.

in the barren fields new domains unveil
where every impression is a mountain to climb
put down my last defence
floating, feeling the flow

Did I mention the fear?
And the feeling that I'm constantly missing something? Like important moments are just passing me by?
And the feeling of not having a home, a steady ground for my mind to stand on?
Yes... Yes, I did.

sometimes encounters we touch like swords
but as the warmth comes we fade
desires remaining unspoken
the words are lost

I got tooth residue in my face.
Oh yeah...
I think the drugs went into my head.
Coffee, anyone?

Anyhow. To something more serious. Or something not as serious as one thought. I guess it was just one of my stupid dreams. Hope that lights up the future usually just are dreams, and nothing more than dreams. How stupid of me to hope for more. So stupid of me to want so much more.
The ever so present fear surfaces again. The ups and downs are so much worse these days for now it feels like I shouldn't have them. I should be happy. Yet, isn't there always something missing?
I never saw my own future. I always thought it'd be dead before 20. I thought it would be a death by my own hands. I didn't need more pain, I didn't need more darkness or loneliness. And now I'm even more afraid of the future. Because it's getting closer, ever so closer... Far away from safety, far away from all I know, and all alone. Isn't it what I've always wanted, to get away? Of course, I still want to get away. But...

I want to smash something.
But then I'd get yelled at.
And then I'd feel bad for breaking something.
And the yelling would just make me feel bad...

  I felt like writing something. I felt I needed to. Now it's lost, lost in waves and waves of emotion. The words in my head, leading me here again, drowned in the stream of emotion with no purpose.
  I saw the difference. I saw one of the missing parts in a puzzle with a million pieces, but I still don't know where it fits. There's an empty space somewhere that needs to be filled with that piece, and I'm not the one to fill it, at least not alone. It's not only my puzzle.
  I saw the lines. I saw loose lines connection into what will never be a whole line. The loose bits are all tangled in each other and will never know their place. But sometimes lines find another line and connect.

  Anger didn't work. Not once. I turned inside. I built a wall. I put up defences. The onslaught almost got me. So I built more defences, and more, and more. Now when I don't need them I'm so used to the siege that I can't let go of the defences.
  Fear still lives. Fear has nailed itself in my head. But it's not just fear. It was never fear alone. Something more started growing long ago.
  Self-loathing. A big pile in the middle of my fortress. A pile of hate against all that I was, everything that had gone wrong. All was and still is somehow my own fault. All of the bad sides amplified a thousand. It's not even nailed to my mind. It's grown into my mind, it's a part of it, just like anything else. I don't know how to get rid of it. And maybe it's justified, to a degree. Maybe I'm right about some of it. It's just amplified in my head.
  The shileds. My pessimistic attitued, the cynicism, the crude ironic remarks thrown everywhere, the overall nasty parts. They keep me busy. They keep my mind from thinking to deep, keep my emotions in check.
  When I'm quiet and thinking, alone and thinking, observing everything from a dark angle, then it starts getting dangerous. Then my mind starts to abuse itself. Then it reminds me of all that I am. It's hard to believe someone else loves you when you hate yourself. And there you have it.
  You think you can make be believe? You think you can turn me around?
  Petty things like this don't matter, right? Of course they don't. Not to a normal person who's just about sane. But in my little world of self-loathing every little thing counts.
  It's like an evil circle. Two things that amplify each in a neverending circle, making each other worse. Self-loathing that makes little things count, and when little things happen and I ponder about them they amplify the self-loathing that makes the next thing count even more. And on and on it goes.
  It's hard to see that when you thought you've tried so hard and gotten somewhere, gotten better, something happens and shows you that you've not tried enough to make any progress that counts. And then the realization of that kicks you back even further...