I am my worst nightmare

I realized that I was infatuated with the idea of you. You are fascinating. Extremely fascinating. But my heart doesn’t jump when I see you anymore, for I know we are not compatible.

The way you think, the way you move, the way you express yourself… it disgusts me, sometimes. But then again, I am going through a phase in which nothing seems good enough for me.

And once more, I’ve proven to myself that I have turned into my worst nightmare. Maybe this is my only chance to attract caring people in my life.



Words don’t rhyme into my head anymore. They’ve stopped doing so for a while now. First, in my mother tongue, then in English.

The energy is shifting. I feel the walls building up. I don’t want to feel caged. I was meant to fly. But, perhaps, in order to fully appreciate the result, my journey must be filled with hardships. Hardships. Hardships. Hardships. Hardships.

Like a broken record. Hardships.

I’ll surmount them. But not before I have a breakdown. Or two, or three… I am anxious. Because there is so much pressure on my shoulders. Great expectations. I hate that book.

Life is wonderful. But sometimes, it’s such a bitch. Yin and Yang. Black and White. Never gray. Gray doesn’t exist. I don’t exist when things are gray. I exist now. And all’s pitch black. I have some candles. I just need a lighter. But I never have a lighter on me. And people never want to give me one because they are afraid I will set something on fire.

I was busy thinkin’ ’bout a boy

We’ve never talked. Sometimes, I can feel him staring at me. Or it’s just my imagination. But when I meet his gaze, I swear I can see millions of questions floating around in the iris of his eyes. I don’t even know their colour. Is it brown? I think it is.

Sometimes, I am afraid to look at him. I’m afraid I will notice judgment instead of lust plastered on his face. I wonder if he finds me fascinating… if I arouse his mind a little bit. Does he think of me?

Cause I think about him. And his lips. And how much I would love to have them pressed against mine.

Falling out of love too quickly

You see, I have this problem… I come across certain things, such as TV shows, books, random objects, sometimes even people and start to obsess over them.

Day and night I would think about them, look up information about them, create artwork which was inspired by them. I cannot breathe, I cannot eat, I cannot sleep because I want more of them.

This obsession, however, lasts for a very short period of time.

Infatuation. That’s what it is.

Once it is over, I no longer care about the stuff that once fueled my existence.

And that scares me. A lot. Knowing that I have become the type of person I fear most.

The Future

Sometimes I feel like I have fucked up my own future. That some of the choices I take will alter the days that are to come. I’m planting seeds of despair, sadness and hatred… I will harvest dry flowers, rotten fruit and weeds. The sun never shines over my garden, the water has never touched its soil. That’s not an orchard that you see… it’s a graveyard. I buried all my past selves there. Like a snake, I shed my skin every spring. I try to get rid of the parasites and grow. But I am afraid I might grow too much and I will be obliged to swallow my own tail. Once I finish my meal, I will enter a void. I’ll be the uncreated once again… forever waiting for another chance to be something ethereal on Earth. 


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