truth sets in

If I were half as of a good person as I pretty much like to believe I am, I'd admit defeat.

enough.

and then again, you just pour words in bed as if saying them as I'm asleep will garante some sort of decent safety.

there's no safety involved in this. You get one move wrong and you can get me upset. for a very long, long time.

I wish you were noisy. i wish you were silent. i wish you'd be whatever you need to in order to make me feel like I am doing the right thing.

right now, im all wrong.

wrong in colours. wrong in truth.
wrong in lies and mess and chaos and whatnot.

the rest... the rest...

the rest is falling asleep at night and hearing the door opening and seeing you entering the room, jumping in my bed.
sunday mornings and non sense talk. stupid tease, your piercing look you give, whenever you want to say something but will never do it in case I'll hear it.

i miss all that.

and all these years, wondering about how we'd be, it was sort of ok to keep it that way, because i never had a taste of it, i never knew even if I wanted it. Now is harder because we had it and I dont know how to get it back.

of all the predictable things, the one that hurts the most, is to know you will blank me forever.

im sorry

I've lied.

to myself, to everyone around me who tried to squeeze truth and honesty out of me.

I've trapped my tiny intelligence in a room not even a single thought would fit in.

I've burned every piece of furniture i used as a seat, to rest, to wait, until wait was no more and all I did was to waste time. mine. yours. same as mine.

The words i cant say out loud mix with the words i wish id hear.

so lost, so lost now either i go back to where i came from, or i go nowhere at all.

there's no middle ground. there's no middle terms, there's no comfort zone anymore. i just wish your forgiveness comes whenever the words i dont want to hear, come out of me.

i do love you the way you know it.

truth or dare?

Instinct comes back by the shape of my past. It doesn't disturb me, it doesn't irritate anymore.

I've got immune to invisibility. Maybe I sank into the ultimate ego sea
of despair
of failures
of feeling numb
drawning and coming back to the surface,
just to breath the same old air you inhaled all your life. all the scents and remarkable memories associated to them.

a scratch that looks like a tattoo is the ultimate trophy of losers.

So it seems, I survived. the storm in the sea. Still looking for something to guide me. to lead me to a safe spot. on Earth.

I'm tired of dreams. Of lies and expectations. of deception and confusion. messages never said, lines never read. truth never told.

I want to live the truth. I want don't want to know it. I want to fucking live it!!

Under my feet there's only the floor that I once lied on, naked, wasted, spent, cover in cum and fake pleasure. the pleasure of pleasing others.

So nude, I never felt cold. Now, writing, I feel like the real exposure is coming. It's right at my door, knocking and ready to break in if I don't answer.
I will answer for all my acts of insanity if that's gonna help.

BUT IT'S NOT.

Everybody else is living a lie.

in hell. the one they built to themselves.

And all this time, I did think I was the one who had problems.

I only have nothing. and nothing is enough to make me sure something's wrong and changes are needed.

nothing's ever happened

And so the insensitive prospect of truth comes out
as you roll to the other side of the bed
and sink in your dreams of distance

I suffer.

The minute I decided to believe, to trust
that's the exact time of my death:
I failed at existing and sticking to what I am
In essence.

You betrayed me.

Not the romantic way. No love bullshit. I'm talking about using words to get what you want
I'm talking about misleading the hopeful folk who seek comfort when life's shit.
You just took advantage of my weakness.
my only moment of humanism, of bareness.

I still shiver when you are near and I can't touch.

I feel defeated when I think I opened my heart instead of my eyes.
I wish we had never happened.

the rant. (extract from a letter to a stranger)

So it seems the world out there just proves me right. more and more.
I do resent the fact I carry this feminine influence on my moods. It controls my stupidity.

i just want a cock to suck. a cock to fuck. me. yeah.
i do like it. i do love it. in fact, i might even adore it. but at the end, I know I don't need it.

But men... sometimes, well, they really let me down.
you know what I hate? I hate the ones who can't see pass the surface, the cordiality, the pure and simple manners, the myths, the stereotypes. this way of one-way-only-perspective on the gender. on me.

I hate the ones who assume things, just because you are a hole, it doesn't mean you have to be nice, or sweet, or dumb or whatever is the stigma attatched to being a woman.

I'm no feminist, no, no sir. I'm independent.

and every now and again you meet the strange types, the lonely ones, the ones... you know, society rejects. the ones who "don't fit". you can relate to them and then the inevitable: you judge them...

yeah, you do fucking so. you try a cheap trick or two you've learned studying psychology and then the psychoanalisys results turn into a passport to their minds. Just to find out later, well, give the weirdos a home, comfort, and they also turn into the rest of them. the rest of society you so resent. well, well, well, after all that, he/she looks fine/healthy/re-born. and you... you still "don't fit". living by your own rules just makes you more dead.

how does that work?

and why, from all the people i know, it's you I choose to send these words?
I've got an urge to be fucked really hard. i also have an urge to ride really hard, as if i could break a cock in two.
angry sex is good. but contagious. therefore dangerous?

this is not an essay. it was just meant to give vent to my thoughts over the past days.

this is an extract, but probably my most honest post to date.

ballad of a coward

I've let you go this morning, not because I wanted you to leave. It was because I didn't want to be the one abandoning this.

I'm not sure where my mind is at the moment. A rollercoaster of interferences and abundance of you. I took a trip back in time in my memory. I found loads of entries about the bad timing and state of mind I've put myself all these years. I found you being mentioned every now and again, putting me somewhere safe, where ghosts wouldn't haunt me, where nights were as long as we needed them to be. You'd bring me down to reality, but not the dull reality I knew it. I was your little bit of promise that things could be real too.

This morning I didn't say what I wanted to say, I didn't kiss you the way I wanted to kiss you. This morning I've let myself down for not telling you I care. For letting you go, not meaning it at all.

I'm scared. There're a dozen chances and only one big picture. There's only one heart to break.

Standing here alone, waiting for the worst part yet, it's going back in time in my memory, but not having you there to rescue me. Stuck in past and ruins of mistakes and loveless, careless truth.

I will miss you more than you think.