Day 588 on the hostile alien planet. Running out of these short updates. Maybe just (insert one of Dante's Inferno quotes here). And maybe also, this is dark because it's an outlet, when nobody listens and nobody understands, you need something to let your frustrations out. I guess. I can't say that screaming into the internet void helps but you know...
We could start with the quote ''there is no greater sorrow then to recall our times of joy in wretchedness''. Fun fact, I've read the book ''a couple'' of times, once actually in Italian. I don't know what it is lately but it seems like starting a new story takes a commitment I'm not ready to take, so piles of new books are laying around my room (in just about every corner), completely untouched. I keep coming back to what I know, what I love, what I feel at home in. Maybe that's my real issue, longing for that feeling of home even in the most mundane things. I never truly felt at home anywhere, save from his arms, he'd wrap them around me and that was home, and you know, the world around us could burn to ashes or crumble to pieces and I'd not care one little bit. I suppose that's what love is supposed to be like huh?
Maybe it's the fact that the ''home'' I know is not home at all. The people that should be ''home'' don't feel like it at all. Maybe it's the constant arguments, the putting down, the calling of names, stupid, worthless, failure, nothing, idiot, you're not superior, you're stupid, you got nowhere in life, you'll always be nothing, you'll die alone, you're an idiot, you're a terrible human being, your face repells people, you're not that smart, you're nothing, nothing, nothing. Always nothing, always worthless, always stupid. A waste of space.
I keep saying things are getting worse and worse and worse. They are. At this point though, I think I've reached the rock bottom. Only way forward now is literally down. In one of Dante's nine circles of hell. Maybe one by one or given the fact that they all represent sin and punishment for those that deserve it by commiting said sins, it may just be a drop all the way down. To be honest I don't think anything would change, upper and lower hell? I think I've been living in the upper part all my life. I don't know how to move on, I don't know how to make it better, I don't know how to make myself better. I don't know how to draw, I don't know how to concentrate and read, I don't know how to enjoy the things I loved, what little I have left anyway. You shouldn't have to force yourself to do your hobbies, to do your favourite things, like I shouldn't have to argue with myself ''get up and do it it's fun''.
I don't know how to do things that are expected of me, things I should be doing, things a ''normal'' person does. I never been normal to start with but normal in a ''normal state of life progression'' I guess? I don't even know. I don't know how to comminucate with people, I don't know how to talk, I don't know how to be like other people. I feel like an alien. All I keep listening to on a daily basis is that it's me, I'm the problem, my mind, my attitude, my clothes, my face even is a problem. I guess it must be true, else more people would be like me, but since I'm all alone in my ways, it's clear that I'm the problem not them. It's not the world that's sick, I am. My way of seeing the society, that is nothing like what is considered ''normal''. I guess it is me that's sick. My way of not understanding people's priorities, not understanding mass hysteria over sports that I couldn't care less about, not understanding the way reality tv mesmerises crowds. I don't know. And I get told to submit to learn to like these things to fit in or I'll be a loner all my life. ''No person is an island''. Well maybe I'm an anomaly, maybe I am that mythical island. Please someone call David Attenboough and report a new species found.
And I feel betrayed with people closest to me and their ''life choices'', betrayed by what they do, how they chose to live their lives that automatically excludes something different, even if by their choice or mine. I don't hold that against them mind you, at all, simply expressing how I feel about it. Might be irrational but honestly, you can't really control how you feel. To be honest though, I don't want to be around people that are different, that think different no more either. There was a time when they challenged me and it was a good and healthy thing to exchange opinions and learn and feed off each others energy and now? Now I just want the world to disappear. I want me to disappear. It's not a world I want to live in no more, it hasn't been in a while but now it really isn't.
And honestly maybe it is true that life just isn't for everyone. When you can't be productive, at least a little bit happy or even really alive, barely surviving never really living, what kinda life is that? I am stuck in limbo, can't sleep at night and tired all day, with progressingly worse headaches that never give me a moment of peace. And funny thing there are moments of clarity in between, short brief moments, things I'm probably imagining, ''fatamorgana'' type thing. A psychosis maybe. Moments of complete madness. And it's all him. Always him. The blue eyes that haunt me.
I got another tattoo the other day, a name. Which is ridiculous since I said I am never getting a name tattooed and much less a mans name. Look at me, David Garretts name is tattooed on my ass and involved in so many incidents I can't count. One would imagine that a tattoo in a private place should remain private. Yes. I should be so lucky. The funny part is that it was a ''drunken mistake'' about 13 years ago but I learned to love it to a point when it's actually my fave tattoo, not becuse of the name, or David himself (lord bless that beautiful unicorn of a man) but because of all the memories tied to it. Some literally are my favourite memories in my entire life. Anyways back to the point, I got another name tattooed, intentionally on one of the most painful parts of the body (you may google those, you get a pretty little map of a human body with color charts where it hurts) because I wanted it to hurt. I wanted it to hurt bad, because it's not just physical pain it's emotional pain that's tied to it. And in a way it was cathartic, tears that were pouring down my face while the tattoo was made may be aimed at the pain of the needle but it felt like another type of pain was leaving my body too. It won't ever leave, each time I'll see the tattoo I'll feel a little jab of pain. It will always hurt, maybe that's why I needed the reminder in the first place, maybe I need it to hurt all the time. Maybe I deserve pain, maybe it's one of those circles of hell, punishment for being the way I am, hurting me in ways I didn't even know I can be hurt in. The worst kinda pain, the one so sharp and so sudden you never see coming and yet it hurts like nothing ever hurt before. Losing someone you love, someone you loved, someone you maybe have yet to love, that is hell. Specially when it's obvious from the get go how few of those people there are in a persons life. So many fakes, so many liars but so few geniune people.
It's not just what the inked name represents, it's everything that I no longer have, a future. Future that could be happy or not, the problem is that I'll never get to find out. I'll never know what it could be like. I know we all have such doubts and such…what ifs but what do you do when at some point these fucked up life choices are the only thing you do know?
I'm running in circles to be honest, my actions and the way my brain is hardwired clearly deserves punishment, clearly I deserve pain but being unable to change…that just means I'll spin in this vicious cycle forever and I wonder what for. Endless life of unhappiness. Why? For what purpose. For what benefit? What is that good for? Life at the end of the day is so fragile and it can be ended so easily. We're all hanging in the balance and that balance can be torn in a heartbeat. I experienced that too many times. And maybe the worst part is that I am completely alone in the circle of hell. No family and no friends I could talk to about such things. No friends that would take the time to listen. No friends that would bother because they just don't see things the same way. Maybe that's what hurts most too, being dismissive, not really caring. I always assumed that you take the time for those you care about / love. Everything else are excuses because a few minutes of focused time to talk to someone you care for shouldn't be an issue. Which brings us to the conclussion of being completely alone. People see the glitter but they don't see the dirt underneath, they think how great my life is, they think how happy I am because they see the glitter, they see what I want them to see and they see what they want to se…but they never see the misery underneath. They're attracted to the spotlight like moths, but they don't see what happens behind that spotlight, they don't see what's it like when the spotlight is turned off and the stage falls into darkness so deep it feels like it will never lift again. A veil. A veil of darkness where no light can come trough.
And it brings us back to him. Always him. My friend would joke, he'd say that I see blond hair, blue eyes, tattoos and a pretty smile and I get a little stupid. Hah. And him, the one? Fits this to the last detail. Eyes you get lost in, and a smile that radiates light. Literal pure white light. Have you read Lord of the rings? In Fellowship of the ring Haldir has what I think it may just be most meaningful thing in the entire series. He talks about the importance of finding light and love in a world that's full of grief. He says that ''after all, sometimes it all seems hopeless and yet, hope is the most important thing we have''. That's what his smile reminds me of, love, light and hope.
So here we are again, it's always him. The one who understood, loved, cared, was always there, made me feel loved, made me feel cared for, made me feel like I matter and am enough. Something nobody else ever did or does now. Maybe something I struggled with all my life and still do, being enough. I never was for anyone, and I never will be for anyone. A disappointment at best and failure at worst. But to him. The one that made me feel unconditional love with just one look or a soft, kind, gentle touch. We really were like darkness and light, fire and ice. I was dark and broody and fiery and temparamental and he was cool blue light. Nothing alike but yet so perfect for each other because we perfectly balanced each other out in every single aspect of our lives.
Theres a moment when all these hateful thoughts got to me, all the negative comments, about my hair, about my face, about my makeup, clothes I chose to wear, people I chose to hang out with, the way my brain works, the things I believe, the things I think, feel…people always have an opinion…all of that got to me bad, all I could do was sit and sob and let it consume me, let it eat me alive, feel the raw emotion. I probably shouldn't but…well…and it's the way he made it better ''amore, I can't even begin to understand who put these poisonous thoughts in your head and why, beauty is only skin deep, I always thought you're the most beautiful girl I ever saw but loving someone is not in their appearance alone, I'll always love you for you, for your inteligence, and compassion and your mind and the way you love me, unconditionally, what more could I want?'' what more indeed? Why is it that we always want more? Why is it that we never feel good enough, pretty enough, just enough enough. Why is nothing ever enough, why do we always want more? I agree you should never settle, you should always keep moving forward, you should always want to reach for more, want more, you should always remain curious, but not in a toxic kinda way. In a healthy kinda way, I don't know why we can't learn how to do that. I don't know why the fuck can't we just be nicer to each other, why can't we just understand and accept how much better all our lives would be if we would as Harry Styles says ''treat people with kindness''.
Honestly, the not being enough part aside, I keep seeing the same three events that led up to this in my head, they feel like a cheap horror movie, a production made purely to drive you crazy, to take that tiny bit of sanity you may have left. May have. I honestly think I lost it months ago. It's been a tough year. It's been a tough ten years, it's been a tough life. You know how it is. These events are swirling in my head at midnight all the time. As the darkness approaches and I lie awake across my bed each night, drowning in the hell that is my head, no wind outside to distract my raging thoughts, no creacking in the house to focus my panic on something else, a ghost, a serial killer coming to finally put me out of my misery, a cat looking for a midnight snack, idk something. The raging heartbeat keeps raging, skin crawling and mind a nightmare, haunted by fears so dark it would make darkness run scared and pathetic, all those guilty secrets, consequences of emotions impossible to pin point, emotions that spiraled out of control, rage, revenge, obsession, love, lust, passion, hate. In such moments it's actually Hemingways words ringing in my ears and mind ''a smart man is rarely happy''. Was I ever happy? With him. Will I ever be happy again? Most likely no.
''Amore della mia vita''. I keep wondering if things would have ended different if I had done just one thing my heart was begging me to do, just one thing without telling myself to stop, to just stop being a scared stupid bitch and fight for what I want just once. Fight for love not fight out of hate. Would it be different if I just spoke up? If I was as honest with him as I am here? Spilling my feelings like spilled ink on canvas? Fuck I love him. That's the truth. And why is it so easy to drop bodies in revenge but it's impossible to grow a pair of balls and speak up, tell the truth?
And while we're talking about the truth, I can't tell him…but I can ramble some more over here, paper and screen can handle anything right? Truth is, he told me once what his favourite book is, I didn't know it, but I bought it, read it once, twice and then again, just looking for pieces of him inside. Things he relates to, parts that made him smile, parts that made him feel the same heartache I felt when going through those lines. I was looking for things I love about him on those pages, and I read it again and again now, feeling like my heart was slowly twisted and crushed, the missing becoming unbearable.
And the truth is I fell even more in love with you when you told me that you understand why I'm scared to let people close, that I'm scared they'll do more damage and that I'm scared that they'll see the damage inside, I fell more in love with you when you told me, that you know I don't need to be saved, that I just need someone to find me, appreciate me and never let go. It's true. But how stupid of me to think I deserve that. Isn't it?
And the truth is I fell in love with you more because of the way we talked. Our conversations were never one sided, one or two worded, never superficial how are yous but deep, meaningful, we shared our deepest fears, darkest secrets, passions, love, lust and our souls with each other. Maybe we shared too much, maybe we left each with a part of each other. A part we'll never get back. At least how I feel. That you hold a part of me that I won't get back. It makes sense. I know I'll never be whole again.
And the truth is that I sit here at night staring at the sky missing you like crazy, wondering if you're looking at the same sky at the same moment, missing me at least a little, or what it is that you think about when someone mentions my name, when you see something that reminds you of me…? If anything does that is...Truth is I fall to pieces each time I see a yellow lab, a red Ferarri, Bernini's Apollo and Daphne, or Johnny Depps perfume commercial.
And the truth is I wonder if you're as scared of the future as I am. I wonder if you're insecure, lost, not sure how to go on. Maybe not. Maybe you were my whole world, while I was just a footnote in yours. Or maybe a page, not even a whole chapter.
And I wonder what happens when that one song comes up on the radio, do you think nothing of it or do you like me, park the car and fall to pieces with the memories swirling in your head. I wonder if you think back of that night till you can't breathe. I wonder if you remember the lights, the glitter, the emotion,…fuck now I'm crying again. I knew I won't make it through this post as a whole but that song. That song feels like a dagger each time, I only think about it and it plays in my head and it's enough. Enough to make me go crazy. Enough to make me want to rip open my chest and throw out my heart just so it stops feeling.
And the truth is that I never felt love like I did when you told me that you understand fully that I don't need anyone and let alone a partner to make my life complete, which is true, I am perfectly fine on my own, I would be perfectly fine if I never met you, I would be prefectly fucking fine. I'm falling apart because of the damage you left. Like a hurricane, tore through me and left me a mess. It's true a strong woman doesn't need a partner but how perfect it is to have someone who kisses all your wounds and doesn't see them as flaws and mistakes but rather cracks to put their love into?
I don't even know how is it that 40% of this post is now about a specific person, it wasn't supposed to be, it's just where my mind wanders to, maybe because he never left my mind. Maybe because there's pieces of him in everything I do, everywhere I go, everything I dream about.
I guess the point was that I just wanna come to a point where I heal, heal in a way that doesn't mean that damage never existed but heal in a way it no longer controls my life. Heal…idk as much to maybe make plans, long term ones, when I see the future anything but dark and black, and a void. When I can imagine some sorta happiness…or if not happiness at least progress. Or just, I don't even really know. Heal in a way where I can enjoy the little things again. Where I can just enjoy life, step outside and appreciate the warm sun, the clear blue skies and the smell of fresh cut grass. Where I'm not annoyed by mundane things like rattling of the cuttlery in a drawer, screaming kids, slamming doors. Where a shower isn't a place I go to cry to, but rather a shower. Where while driving I end up enjoying the ride with a good song on not constantly thinking about how easy it could be to drive of a cliff. And I'm not talking about him, the boy with blue eyes, he only added to it, all the rest…it's not his doing. I was messed up long before he showed up. It's just the life he showed me that crumbled to dust that's hurting like hell on top of the usual hell I've known my entire life.
My friend would say though, it's not the love that hurt you, it's a person who didn't really love you because love doesn't feel like this. He was right. I hope. I can't ask him what he thinks no more, unless I talk to a medium. But really, I don't think I know true love. I can't say I really felt it growing up. I can't say I learned how to love where it should begin. At home. I actually…can't remember being told I was loved. Ever. I took that as normal all my life, but really…it's not. Unless of course if I wasn't loved. Then it makes sense. Actually so much makes sense. It makes sense when all these thoughts show up as cuts and bleed the pain away. Or a scruffs when I beat the boxing bag bloody, or as bruises when I let the frustrations out on a training mat. People don't understand it. And good for them. I never want anyone to understand it really. It's a whole different level of hell. When you feel nothing and are dying to feel something, anything. Even if pain. But to be honest even that feels too numbing these days.
And on top of all this, the world is crazy too. Completely utterly crazy, maybe being stuck here with no possible way to get away is what is killing me too, I need to get away for a little bit, I need to breathe different air, I need to get lost in Italy, my favourite spots and those I don't know yet, or in Vienna, the busy Mariahilfer street, or maybe somewhere completely new because there's nothing more exciting then explore the world, I need a long weekend at the sea side, I need galleries and museums, I need art and passion, I need love and laughter. I need to be lost in things I love instead of being lost in things I hate. I just need to be free. I need to be free.
What do you do when the pain is too much? When it's choking and strangling you? When there's no release? What can you even do? I don't want to be broken no more. I don't want to be sad. I don't want to be lost. I don't want to be lonely. Alone. Afraid. Actually come to think of it, I don't want to ''be'' no more.
I know you're reading, the blond, blue eyed monster, who I can't stop loving no matter what happens, the sky may fall down and here I am, shedding blood and tears over the keyboard…I'm sorry, I wish I was healed before I met you, so you could meet the best version of me and maybe then you could love me like I love you.
''Otkako nisi, više kraj mene, ja dušo sanjam, divlje slonove, u glavi imam, kratke spojeve, da je bar tebi, isto kao, kao što je meni, kao ja da poludiš, jednom kad se zaljubiš. Da mi je negdje, južno, južnije, da upoznam dušo, voodoo vračeve, da me nauče, tajne crne magije, pa da je tebi isto kao, kao što je meni.''
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