Yearning for something new is always normal, always expected. Yearning for old stuff is what fucks my mind up. I'm in a state of dizziness and confusion.. I want some of my childhood back.. I want a part of the worst years of my life back, and I mean what I'm sayin' ..
Do you miss me, dear old cartoons, dear first toys, dear torn-up walls, dear imaginary boys?
Do you miss me as much as I miss you? Do you get the same feelings I used to get back then? Do you ever feel broken for not being able to turn back in time?
I fucking hate time! ... DO YOU?
Do you sing along with me when I play old music and cry as I be recalling words and how much they meant to me? Do you get the chills, watching old photos and smelling old books?
I'm torn apart, and you're nowhere to be found.. I'm all messed up, I know, but then there are those details that make me forgive my father.. There are some moments that make me get over the pain for some time .. There's this old photobook and those old songs stuck within the same memory that keeps on torturing me and making me the monster I am.. The monster they'll never see.
But where are you when I need you the most? Where the hell are you wanderin'? I'm right in front of you! Come on, little nice memories..
I know you'll never be real ever again, but... HELP..?
You're to get all the blame, yet you would've never been born this way if it wasn't for people's actions. I don't know why I'm blaming you for all this mess I'm living in, all in all you're just a mass of consequences .. Bad ones I can tell. You're the result of all the scars, the tears, the burns, the slaps, the kicks, the punshes.. You're the result of what they've done, yet you get all the blame. So unfair, isn't it?
Ain't I crazy, dear readers? I'm writing this whole thing to something that's been created thanks to my existence, something that only lives inside of me, and dies soon as I vanish away, leaving nothing but that photoalbum that contains all of my photos, taken as I cry ...
Yeah, that reminds me of how much I hated everything, even photos. I was shy, scared of everyone and everything, ashamed of being who I am even as a kid.
"But hey, I thought kids are supposed to be innocent and spontanious!"
Yes. Unfortunately, they are.
Fiction. I fucking loved fiction back then. I had a crush on a fictionnal character. I had dreams about myself getting all those fictionnal powers I used to imagine while reading books or watching TV.
I used to pray to God under my blanket, asking to own any type of superpower.
That shit lived up with me for years and years, until I suddenly lost faith in God, in all gods, and all sacred beliefs.
I kept on praying for an unexisting "God", to get something that was out of everyone's reach. I yearned for the unreachable and now all I've got left is a tons of memories that torture me, yet keep me alive. Depressive, ain't it?
Fiction. I still see fiction between the lines of my favorite books.. The lines of a fictionnal character's body.. The lines that I had to walk straight on but I refused and chose my own shady path.. Fiction.
I love fiction. I hate inventing fictionnal stuff. I feel like a God, failing his mission to make an imaginary creature come to life. I hate this. I hate me. And I hate childhood.
I don't drink or do drugs.. I'm just looking for a sort of relief.. I'm fading away.
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