Forwarded letters....

One eye open..closed again. It's dark..she missed the light once more. Keeping them closed, vodka still burning her throat.. not ready to face that she's been in bed for so long. In and out of reality, not willing to remember what happened last night. In and out of reality. Regret..self loathing..fighting every pressing urge to scream to run away.. because she's not the same, and she hates that. She knows what they're saying..but she wont answer them back. They're right, she's different..she wants to blame it on him.. the one who made her forget about the tragedy she relives everyday at home. The innocence she lost so early, she wishes she could get back. But he broke her. She's been through it all.. the cynical playlists she knows them by heart.. she can't listen anymore.. it wont change the fact that he's gone. He broke her.. so she broke others in return. Each one of them is different she knows.. she just wanted to have fun. They saw the light in her eyes, the sun in her smile..but she saw nothing but mediocrity. She learned all the tricks. Never underestimate the power of a deceiving smile. She's over the past, but it still lives in her today.. not many can see it. But he surprised her, because reading into her was a breeze. He's been broken before..he's just like her. Been through it all, tore away the flesh from his bones, he's just like her. But they don't see it. Born in despair, made of flaws, stitched together with good intentions. The passion is overwhelming, it's perfect, better than what she pictured it to be. Started as a mistake, a rendezvous.. one of his game..she played along. She knows he'll eventually do what they all did.. take her heart out and step on whats left of it, burn the ashes of her heart into dust..because he too doesn't see the good no more. Why would she be different. Why would she change. She wants to change.. waiting on a cue from him.. a sign that tells her to push the weight of her shoulders and live again. No messages on her phone, losing all hope in hope.. shutting her eyes once more. Pressing them tight..no she's not ready at all.. to see the light.

Vertigo

Anyone whose goal is 'something higher' must expect someday to suffer vertigo. What is vertigo? Fear of falling? No, Vertigo is something other than fear of falling. It is the voice of the emptiness below us which tempts and lures us, it is the desire to fall, against which, terrified, we defend ourselves - The Unbearable Lightness of Being 

Going back..but not really

D says she connects to my writings every time she goes back and reads them.. its funny because I can never relive that first experience of writing a certain piece.. I try i really do.. I always want to relive the state of mind i was in when i wrote it, but i can't.. I can't even retrieve the emotions I had.. its a shame.. that once i write it down its gone..just like all pleasures in life.. short-lived but so intense that when you go back to remember you realize that your memory is actually not serving you well.. the brain is not made to remember such amplifications.... so this is something i wrote a year ago..maybe it'll make you feel the way i felt the first time i wrote it..

Inspiration. All it takes is a little inspiration. A beautiful scenery? A good song? An intense experience? Nothing's satisfying my hunger. I feel nothing but numbness slowly crawling up my veins. Intimacy, food, and music don’t interest me anymore. Air no longer feels fresh. My lungs are fulfilled no more. I finally decided to give up, to stop expecting, and stop hoping. At least I decided. Now I can rest in peace. I've made my decision….but then he comes along. He comes uninvited. He sees through my clothes. I'm naked in his presence. I don’t like him. He sends me back into my confusion. I thought I made up my mind. I thought I gave up. Just let me give up. I'm torn inside. I don’t want to talk to him, but when I do, I don’t want it to stop. It must stop. I can't fall again. I'm smarter than that now. I've got no time for this. I'm too busy for butterflies. Yet he's got a whole legion of them inside me. A rare breed those butterflies. I've experienced nothing like them before. The kind that touches your soul once, only once, and once is enough. It feels wrong and forbidden. I’m in your zone. It’s so consuming, so wrong, but too good. Then I catch my reflection. I'm innocent and beautiful again. I'm a child. I feel my heart skip a beat…..I can move my legs again. I'm alive. I'm inspired.

Bullet to the world

Happiness is going to bed knowing life has treated you well today. I've been consumed by an overwhelming happiness for the past two month..its starting to scare me. This can't be normal. Big or small, nothing bothers me anymore. I don't remember how it feels to be angry anymore.. what's the point of anger.. just an over flood of adrenaline that takes over ur being, leaves u frantic and regretful. Anger takes you nowhere. Chill, and maybe have a cigarette, rewind, and unwind. Maybe I finally learned how to see the bigger picture, embrace the small moments , but be grateful for the whole.

I was talking to a friend today, about how people lost touch with the simple. We dont want small, we want big, we dont want the peace we want the drill.. we agreed that society has become corrupt. Most of the people who surround us are attempts of human beings, talk to them, your words seep right through their million holes, like trying to fill up a porous balloon with water.....it seeps right through. but i dont think that he realized that he taught me something, their's still hope for some of us.. we can still press undo.. some of us are still humans.. you made me smile because you appreciated the simple in me.. and so I'm quoting you in this post, this one is for you...because you got under my skin

( "I am a fighter to the heart. No fighter can survive a headshot. However, a victorious fighter can manage to block it, avoid it, or release the bullet to their opponents head first"...you just released your first bullet to our biggest opponent, the world.)

Book of the day: The informers- Bret Easton Ellis (L.A, sex, drugs, and rock n roll, and the epitome of corruption)