justthingsiwrote

[justthingsiwrote]

feeling melancholic. but in a sweet way. i am still being crushed but gently and lovingly with a mortar and pestle. i am still feeling suffocated but by a big thick blanket. sadness is not disguising itself as kindness, it simply is kind. right now. tonight it will probably be violent again. i feel like i am being held. by something i cannot comprehend.

[justthingsiwrote]

to have the last parts of you slip through my fingers like sand, never looking back and never coming back. i cant take this. i gave you my future and my heart and my effort and now all i can do is lean against your cold, empty, remorseless absence. build castles in the clouds just to get me through the day and stuff my brain with cotton to get me throught the night. you would never try for me. i see that now.

[justthingsiwrote]

my sins swirl at my feet and seep deeper, deeper, into the soil, i might be getting washed away with them. what is left of me when it is all drained will have to put herself together as best she can. but i do not care. i am being absolved.

[justthingsiwrote]

someday he will be sleeping beside me for real, his skin smooth and warm under my fingers. his breath felt throughout my body as i try to match it. he starts in his sleep and i will pull him closer and whisper our love into his ear. through the night we melt into each other. together we build protection from what awaits. they do not find us in the morning.

[justthingsiwrote]

abba was so right. somehow i WOULD be doing all right. if it wasnt for the nights!!!!

[justthingsiwrote]

i dont know how many more nights i can take. at night, i feel it as though it had never left, as though ive never felt anything else. it consumes me whole and spits me out and every time it gets harder and harder to believe in an end.

[justthingsiwrote]

the weeping gash the bleeding cut the open wound it never stops!!!!!!

[justthingsiwrote]

exhausting. all i can feel is filtered through a fine mesh of guilt. how do i make myself live when i was not made to deserve. when the guilt is not crushing me i do not exist. i just realised i have been holding my breath. how do i stop.

[justthingsiwrote]

I tried to put the task that lay before me out of my mind. Walking along the beach, I gazed at the windmills in the distance, partially shrouded in the usual miserable haze. The icy grey permeates every inch of this city, from the streets to the buildings to the trees to the other gloomy souls walking along the shore. I shivered and dug my hands deeper into my pockets, wishing I had taken the bus. The people jogging past me seemed so distant, so surreal. I felt as if I could look through them, and they through me. I was certain we did not occupy the same realm. When I reached the tunnel that would lead me home, I paused. I turned to see a seagull on a mound, looking me in the eye. I approached it. It squawked loudly and intentionally at me, not even moving when I was a couple inches away from it.

[justthingsiwrote]

whenever i return i remember that the sadness will not leave, the sadness is not sadness, the sadness is a thread that ties places together in a realm that is far from this one yet the same. there it is scientific, a fundamental element like fire or air or water, it binds together places and people and things that are thousands of miles apart here. it is a distortion, a compression of this world, you can travels for hours and hours and it will still be in you, or rather you in it.

[justthingsiwrote]

day 3/40

not much to do. reading, mostly. made friends. they were not kind. feeling unsteady.

[justthingsiwrote]

day 2/40

so i for sure have an inferiority complex

[justthingsiwrote]

day 1/40

a beautiful place. a long wait. a man who has studied fruit flies so long he has taken on their appearance himself. lunch with collegues, alone but surrounded by people. a condescending laugh. a game with new friends. a shake in my voice as i try to explain my presence. a dissapointed tone. reassuring eyes and a voice brimming with humour.

[justthingsiwrote]

listening to my mother complaining about my grandmother while american country music plays in the background.....ouuu the true sounds of childhood

[justthingsiwrote]

phantom smells through my blocked nose: singapore cherries, blood, beanbag leather, an absence that could have started two years ago or a thousand, plants in a fish tank, pleading, pleading, pleading

[justthingsiwrote]

The hotel was an ancient, crumbling thing, constantly under some kind of construction. Everything here was old and slow, the elevators, the water heaters, the staff. The hallways, dingy and narrow, made you feel overwhelmingly temporary. The floorboards were cracked and the walls were peeling, but the view was wonderful. Large, open kitchen windows that faced the ocean, the date palms swaying slowly in the breeze. Through the other windows, a graveyard, with colourful tombstones surrounded by huge, ominous-looking trees. The furniture and panelling was all made of the same kind of wood, warm and brown and comforting against the white walls. Being here felt like a brief respite from time. I spent my mornings half heartedly studying and sending countless emails to the elusive Sarah, who I was rapidly losing faith in hearing from. In the evenings we went to the beach, walking for hours along the shore and looking at the dying starfish in the sand. There were always a couple of oil fires in the distance, tall and bright, giving the impression of giant accusing eyes. I saw accusations everywhere those days, in the glances of strangers, in the soft rush of the sea, in the silence of my friends. 

[justthingsiwrote]

flinching, again.