All In All.

For some reason I can´t believe how troubled I am, how disgusted I am and how sad I am for being tortured by a dream. Tormented because I wanted something so bad at the point that I defied my own nature.  You know? Specimens fighting for a cause.  Constantly trying to bring down something that´s not even up.  Not even a bit.

Have you felt this steel on your existence? Have you felt like a wrong walking metaphor? Felt as if the mere fact of you even trying to have a little fun makes you uneasy and guilty?  You blame yourself for stopping and realizing that things do fall apart, things do get broken. Messy stuff is born and you´ve been stuck in the same joke since you can remember.

Foreseeing stuff, visualizing stuff, believing in stuff… Being stuff. To look at oneself and see that for the first time, your kind heart can´t win, your tiny and beautiful heart. It´s not fragile though, because you have seen it resurrect every Friday night, every Saturday night, days when your heart dies… But still rises the next morning. Corrupted, forgotten, invalid, invisible, inexplicable and deluded. The worst part is that you feel it growing, and growing, and growing… Until it says no more and explodes with your lame existence. Explodes over and over again, staggering pain, resistance is useless.

You get up one day and suddenly you don´t know who you are, who are your parents, all those years just get forgotten. But it´s okay, that´s just you hitting the deadliest and scariest part of life.

You wish you could see right? To see and admire the vast “epicness” of human existence, you pretend to enjoy the little things so you don´t feel like everyone else, so you feel special. So you can hold on like no one ever has.  And you hold on… You hold on… But only for oh, how long?

There is so much noise here…. So much disaster, no one notices anything, I wonder if someone notices me… I wonder if someone is not on their phone, and if someone just enjoys to spend the time writing about morose stuff and understands me.

I want to go home, but I hate the lonely walk… I hate walking by myself wondering if someone gets how sad I am, how lunatic I appear at the world´s eye.

It´s true what they say, you know?

People don’t get along completely anymore, it´s rare when it happens…

People don’t see themselves, people don’t scrutinize in their decisions. They don’t go deeper, or beyond their little technological weapons.

Beyond matter I see, beyond matter I love, beyond every step I´ve taken, beyond every breath I´ve missed, I still reside in the consciousness of so many people, and so many people reside in mine…It´s like an orchestra, a moral orchestra, a dangerous orchestra, strings everywhere, dull tempos, and dull pain.

Spinning and spinning around … Then I stop… How many times have I stopped? How many times have I sit all by myself and just wanted to talk to someone? How many times have I been in need of just one mind that sees me exploding and decides to bring an extinguisher? How many?

Sugar, sugar can´t make me extend my time here… Sugar won´t blend in me… Sugar would separate my notion of real life, and sugar will explain everything to me, while it leaves me bitter.

Staying alive never sounded as ironic as it does today.

It sucks to be on the wrong side of life, on the wrong side of the bed.