Sunday, December 25, 2016

Links for the chain.

(Ending Credits)

Truth is always said to be concrete and obvious.. It is said to be the purest of all things, the closest to our hearts and the most manipulative weapon we can ever use.
I'll tell you the truth, I'll tell it whole, but please don't step on my remains.. I'm already in pain.


-What’s with the fake smile, aye! Is everything alright?
Please don’t give me that face.. I need to understand what’s going on inside your head.
Don’t you dare tell me you need some time alone because I’ve already given you 19 years of alone time to think ahead and try to figure things out by yourself!

-I’m alright. It’s just that I’m lacking sleep.

-Oh come on! Not that same lie again! You’ve been telling everybody the same lie for years now and I’m sick of that!  I’m not them, I’m not a stranger, I’m your..

-Of course you are a stranger! Of course you are! How can you not be a stranger when I’ve never trusted you? You’re not an exception, you’re the same as everybody else and I’ll never trust you! Please don’t look disappointed ‘cause I bet my life you’d be even more disgusted and turned down if I ever lied to your face and claimed that you are my only trusted friend and that I only feel secure when you’re around. I know that’s what you’ve always wanted to hear but I’m sorry, I cannot lie about such things. I cannot deny the fact that you’re doing your best, but I never asked for that.. I never asked for sympathy from anyone, I never wanted you to try and understand me.. Matter of fact, I fucking hate it when you or other ones ask me what’s wrong! I hate that, and I fucking hate people who insist on knowing! Fuck you. I don’t wanna trust you, no, not with my fragile remains, not with stories behind my scars… Fuck you. Don’t even try!


-Thank you for the kind words, but in case you have forgotten, I'd like to remind you of the fact that you cannot get past my existence. I’ve been here since day one and I ain’t planning on leaving even if you want me to. You can’t live without me. You can’t handle things alone, you’re so consumed by loneliness and you just cannot do shit about it.
I hope you gather up enough courage to let go of the past.. I hope you grow wise enough to forgive them.. I hope for the best to happen to you, and that's what I've been trying to achieve for the last 19 years: I've been trying to make you move on with your life and let go of the grudge you're holding, because I've seen it grow strong and consume your broken soul. You deserve to be saved so  please don't push me away, trust me, give me a chance, don't give up on yourself. You're surrounded by assholes and that's what makes the situation twice as fucked up. I know how sad you get at the sight of them leaving, I know how hurt can you get by words thrown randomly at you during some "fun time", I know how fragile you are, I know how to treat you, how to tend your wounds, how to introduce you to life outside of the dark cubic room.. Please let me help.

-BULLSHIT! I don't trust you. I will never give you the power to manipulate me. We're done, now it's time to bid you and the whole world farewell!

-WaIT!NO! Don't..

And she fell, from the 27th floor down to her bloody end, leaving the world to those who can either handle it or ignore its bullshit and survive.. She left no trace of depression or whatever it is that can push a person to commit suicide. Few hours later the police came by to examinate her place, and found a videotape of her last minutes of life. They played it, and agreed that the girl had some mental issues, as they saw her alone, talking to... Nobody.

Wednesday, December 14, 2016

Unforgotten.



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.