I don’t want to go out anymore. I don’t want to feel the constant energy of sad people, I can feel it, then, unfortunately, I am sad too. Sad. Living in a world of scary hallucinations I cling to the closest comfort, anybody or anything, any shape or detail. Small little outlines that will keep me sane but somehow push me over the edge of the world. Uncommonly but not forgotten I will place myself in the moons rising. Does that help me or do I convince myself of the fact? I’ll walk silently with that white orbit, let it take me over, spill its colours into mine and then seise to exist somewhere beyond the thoughts I scribble down. A beautiful oasis with all my favourite colours, textures and smells. Existence on my own terms. What a joy to have an imagination. Ten toes and ten fingers all for myself. But why am I giving them to everybody else? The question remains silent, stagnant and flickering in my brain. If only I could remove this little machine inside of me, show it to myself, wash it clean. I bet you then, I’d love myself, the same way everyone else has pretended to love me.
我死なば
酒屋の瓶の下にいけよ
もしや雫の
もりやせんなん
Ware shinaba
sakaya no kame no
shita ni ikeyo
moshi ya shizuku no
moriyasennan
Bury me when I die
beneath a wine barrel
in a tavern.
With luck
the cask will leak.
All I got this Easter was four cuts on my wrist and a broken heart.
Ivan’s Childhood (Andrei Tarkovsky, 1962): hands & water
(via stenbergapyromanen)
The world is a sad place. If the doorbell rings answer it or don’t. Pull over on the side of the road and realise everything at once. Do whatever you want. I don’t care.
A fun game to play: take a lot of Valium and try to scare yourself