mentalcat

It's Suicide Tuesday for the last time and our voices are drowning in the beat of holy souls and too much cigarette smoke. I see your face across the room and I can't decide whether I'm madly in love or scared for my life. You carry that certain sense of beautiful, stabbing saddness in your eyes and I feel like I should say something but everything I can think of is wildly inappropriate at its best. I burry my face in the salt tasting wine I'm pretending to enjoy and drown every feeling of you and me and the past and the present. Our paths haven't crossed in so long that I've almost forgot the way your upper lip curves when you smile and suddenly you're everywhere again. I leave the imaginary place in my mind, a kind of smokey lounge filled with a random collection of faces I've talked to since 1992. I walk down a street that reminds me of a place where I once lived and I think of nothing nothing nothing because everything is you today. I wake up from my dream because the unconscious is a dangerous place. I sit down and write a blog post in shitty english because english is your language and not mine. I skim through the letters and remember how much you hated everything I wrote, said, did, loved. That's why I'm here and you're there. That and many other reasons.

Röd

är färgen på mina väggar, ditt hjärta och hennes handleder.

Röd är liv, röd är kärlek, röd är den som sakta blöder till döds.

Jag dricker vin och reflekterar över allt som ser ut som vin.

Idag är ingenting påriktigt.

Allt är en lek, ni är fragment av min tvinande fantasi

 

Demens

Latinsk betydelse: förlusten av själ eller sinne

Utan imperfekt finns inget presens, utan nu finns inget alls.

Jag drunknar sakta i ett moln av ingenting,

tappar andan i ett vakuum av tomhet.

 

Snälla hjälp. Innan även det som inte finns försvinner.

 

I don't know what to write, I just feel like I have to do something. Can't sit still, can't study, can't focuse, definitely can't sleep even though I'm completely exhausted. What the fuck is my problem? Why can I not let myself be happy? I have a job I'm starting to like, I have GREAT friends, the nicest boyfriend and all the chances in the world to get into psychology if I just try a LITTLE. Why is it so god damn hard?

 

I don't know what's wrong with me so I'm gonna make a list of things that bother me instead. Because I'm not the problem, the world is.

 

1. Our messy appartment. Let's be honest, it looks like a shithole 80% of the time here. Why doesn't anyone clean up?! And why is the bird on the wall still not ready? Why do we even have a bird on the wall???

2. Laundry. The fact that I still haven't done it.

3. That B-I-T-C-H from last night. And like 5 other nights. Why does that kind of people even exist? And more imoportantly, WHAT WAS SHE DOING IN MY HOME? Who invited her? I kind of know I did but I have no clue why I would do such a thing.

4. My drunken drugcravings. Why is it that I completely forget who I am and what Í stand for after like... 3 beers?

5. That one "friend" of mine. I don't even know why I hate her so much. There is just something about the way she looks at me that kind of makes me wanna cut her throat. Stay calm bitch. You ain't shit.

6. My fakehair. I want it gone.

7. That everyone sucks. People are either too boring or too fucked up. Which makes making friends impossible.

8. That R always sleeps. How can anyone sleep that much?! It's fucking five in the afternoon and the guy just doesn't give a shit. I'm hungry. I wanna eat.

9. Mondays

10. Every other day of the week