I could suddenly see everything. It was like viewing myself through a camera which kept zooming out. Nothing was hidden from sight. I saw every possibility, every path I could take, and every result. Every cause, and effect. I wondered, was this what God could see? If I saw this for all eternity, I would probably go insane. No wonder He has to sit down on a throne.
Today didn’t feel like a day. It was a space in time which time itself forgot. I took a break from life and sat in this space for a while. It’s serene yet depressing. I feel invincible yet completely useless. I hate it. I wanna go back now.
Plug me back into time.
Emptier than ever. Emptier than thou. Empty. Soggy bodies pressing against each other to find comfort and refuge. Trying to fit into each other like puzzle pieces. I didn’t get the memo about what the picture is on the puzzle box.
I had a bad feeling walking there today. It was worse than before. I numbed myself when the guys touched me and fornicated all around me. I was the ice queen surrounded by white - with a pearl necklace. As I laid my tired body down, it struck me hard - the hollow shell my body had become. I was thrown around like a doll, busted up, bruised.
Motionless, I lay as warm trembling hands cuddled me in the dark, pressing against my body, finding a way in. Alas the door is covered with bricks and cement. Semen.
Deadpan eyes, mouth always opened. I’m a sex doll. Filled with air. Hollow. Air.
I do think about you. You make me human. But I know it wasn’t meant to be. Indulge me when I talk to you, cause it gives me the little hope that I need to tell me I’m not just a hollow shell. You give me depth. But I’ll have to say goodbye. Soon. Slowly. Surely. And let go of your hand - which I hope is still holding on. Goodbye.
Now drift - drift away.
Gay or not gay, I want you to live life with dignity.
I wanted to come back to familiar faces, smiling. I wanted to meet everyone I miss again. I wanted to feel refreshed and reenergized for the new semester. I wanted to, I wanted to. Why do I have even more questions now? Why do I feel so tired and drained? Why.
I’m confused and lonelier. I’m exhausted.
I’ll run away from all this again: all the open ends, all the question marks, all the what ifs. Was I doing myself a favour coming back? Or taking a gun and pointing it to my kneecap and emptying all the rounds?
Breathe. I need to. Stop. And.
Here I go again. Frustrated? Maybe, perhaps. It seems like things happen to show me that things will never happen. I’m tired. When I finally try, I’m shot down. Why bother in the first place?
Logistically, it can’t happen. Never - in fact. But love transcends all doesn’t it? Love? Is that what I’m calling it? What do I know anyways?
I’m wounded. Time to numb the pain.
Chug chug chug chug choo!
Brrm brrm click click weet!
Pew pew clink clink clink!
Bzzt bzzt bzzt bzzt!
Jigga jugga jigga jugga!
Help me. I’m suffocating. It’s here, it’s everywhere. Go away. Please. Dear God, I’m sorry. I’ve created a monster.
It happened the first time. It happens each time. And each time, a clearer picture. It’s like a sport now to me. Practice. Practise. Practice. I’m pretty sure I left my emotions at the door. What is love anyway? Does it even have a part to play? Is it just me? Perhaps.
I’m usually not even there when it happens anymore. I’m just a body - a pulsating, sweaty body - void of human warmth. A corpse. Necrophilia much? It’s this numbness in my soul, like a swelling I can’t stop, and it’s consuming me.
You know how rape victims suffer from trauma and block out everything? I guess it’s pretty much the same feeling. Just that the only person that fucked me is
Another monotonous night gone by. Fuck, no, it’s morning already. I’m bored. Stiff. And now flaccid. My dishes from dinner are crusting up. That’s gonna be a bitch to scrub off later. I need to get out. No, but it’s so late, how bout an early start to the day tomorrow? No, I’m so awake now. Perhaps I’ll go downstairs for another cigarette. But it’ll just be the same as the one I had 15 minutes ago: uneventful..
Fuck it, I’m drinking the Bacardi in the kitchen.
Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas any more.
I know I can deal with shit. I’ve done it before. Just turn your back, and walk away. Forget it ever happened.
No. I can’t do this. God, Colin, if there’s any human left in you, just cry. No more hard-ass bitch on the outside. Break down these walls you hide behind. All these people you have learnt to love, trust and respect, not one tear? Seriously? My tear ducts have been clogged with years of sucking it up and being strong - on the outside. Trust me, I can be a wreck, I want to be a wreck, I am a wreck. Like I always tell myself, I only know I’m still human when I cry. Why is it so hard now?
I don’t want to forget any of you. Ever.
Love you all.
Don’t play with fire, don’t get burnt. Don’t BE the fire.
I am not a very good person, I don’t think I am. I am selfish. I only think of myself - my basic survival instincts. I won’t save you, only myself. Before I get hurt, I’ll leave. There you’ll be, left wondering. Some get hurt, some have already moved on. Doesn’t matter to me any way, I’m already gone.
I can still feel the human in me kicking sometimes. Like a child, in this concrete womb I have build around myself. Void of feeling, emotion and empathy. Yet each kick sends a shiver down my spine, a wave of emotion, a surge of clarity and humanity. And it’s gone.
I’m freezing, here on this hard slab of concrete. Where am I? Gosh. I’m… Hearing birds chirping. "Morning!" Already? I’m ten kinds of smelly, lying on god-knows-who’s-sticky fluids. And the wind - god, the wind. I’m so cold. Oh right. That’s how I got here. I don’t like waking up in strange places.
Glad you had fun, gurl, now sashay - sashay away.
I guess I just got caught up thinking - thinking about life. Everything ahead, everything that could be. Good things. The possibilities are causing me spasms and foaming at my mouth. I must be crazy - crazy enthusiastic about life. A yeast infection of life. Staying up this late is fucking with my mind.
I know myself, always indulging in the past, responding badly to sudden shifts in social and physical climates, a hermit. I indulge in the melodrama of the yesteryears and present, it’s not me to look forward, it’s not like me to embrace changes, it’s…
It’s like a huge weight upon me is just. Gone. The past is not grabbing me by my hair and yanking anymore. It’s all gone - he’s all gone. I can walk again, I can run - I can run a fucking marathon. Don’t try stopping me now.
I hope I feel like this in the morning, goodnight.