13.11

As black and whites turn to grey

The picture of me starts to fade

I don’t even know who you are anymore.

Me and Cartoons

for days on end now I’ve been searching for a quote of some sort to underline how much I appreciate the Bojack Horseman cartoon in troubling times such as these. For ends on end yet zilch, nothing. Don’t get me wrong now, the show’s a minefield of golden moments and epiphanies, but seeing them just plucked out of context on a Top 15 by BuzzFeed just diminishes their depths to me.

As highlighted by so many before me, the show really hits home because of its blatant, embarrassing ugliness that we come to recognise as the monsters in all of us. There is no censorship of depression, sexuality (or lack thereof), toxicity, or the various lifestyles in which the characters relay. There is no one perfect character, no heroic protagonist to move the show forward, because that’s reality. There is no escaping from the notion that the world revolves around us. We all like to think of tragic heroes who are byproducts of our toxic upbringing and superficial world. But as quoted by the great Todd Chavez,

"Oh great, of course. Here it comes, you can't keep doing this. You can't keep doing shitty things and then feel bad about yourself, like that makes it okay. YOU NEED TO BE BETTER.

No...no..just stop. You are all the things wrong with you. It's not the alcohol, or the drugs, or all the shitty things that happened to your career, or when you were a kid. Alright? It's you, Bojack. It's you. Fuck man. What else is there to say."

And it’s a home run. It’s easy to brood and blame. It always has been.

Its heartening to see talking cartoon animals address their own toxicity, even going so far as to call themselves poison. Being afraid to let anyone close because they will only hurt them. and it heart wrenching to watch, as a third person, the struggles of an imbalanced marriage. The blatant portrayal of selfishness and misogyny in people we call family, and how it continues to haunt us till we’re old.

Relapse

I don’t wanna be somebody
Fallin’ in a relapse
Every time I see that smile again
I just think of when //

On Friday I felt real again, when another girl called me a good boy. And I felt real too, when a stranger gently nudged Anni aside to hand me her bag. Might have been to get rid of it, who knew, but then again, who cares.

On Saturday I was shaken, on Sunday partially broken, and on Monday I rebuild myself again.

Friday 13th

fine, do whatever you want. I feel sadness, I'm wrong. I apologise, I'm wrong. Everything I do also wrong wrong wrong.

7.54

and you can buy her the world but you can't buy her love.

And you said it don't matter

Maybe it's my face. The face of someone nice but not worth it. Nice but unsuccessful. Nice but irresponsible. I hope it's my face.

Kindly realise that your actions have consequences beyond the inmediate audience. Time and again I have allowed myself to be drawn to your friendship only to realise, time and again, that I have no worth in your eyes. 

I have never and will never be a real man in your eyes, are you scared to tell me that to my irresponsible face? 

I will only ever be good enough for people you don't care about, I'm a what, a flight-risk? A chew toy of some sort to use and throw?

Or god knows I'm pitiful, a sad case to tell your acquaintances about at bonfires: The Walking Tragedy and His Story of Lost Love

-----

You know she loves you with her life. I hurt her and you know it. I hurt her by second guessing her choices and I deserve whatever distrust or ill feelings she might have towards me. Wake up, and understand that you have immunity against that. What you said to her was in retrospect the exact same mistake that I made. Listen buddy, we're both stupid human beings who think we know what's best for the ones we care about. Wake up. We don't. She will never distrust you, so don't go around taking advantage of that full-well knowing that the walls have ears - I will hear every damn thing you say, or imply about me. 

I hurt her, and I have to live with that regret every day. I am torn between happiness that her best friend loves and cares for her, and the cost it incurs on my being. I am a person, and I am trying my utmost to be a better one. I want her to be safe, and I want her to be happy, too, we're not too far off, you and I. 

I don't have the simplest of lives, but my demons are all out in the open. So price me down for what you see me as, will you, but I've got nothing else to hide, nothing. I'm honestly hurt by what you think of me, for the last time I am sick. Of having to prove myself because I don't need you to tell me I'm not good enough. But for all the shit that I am, I'm not a for-the-moment guy, and if you knew me, you'd know.

23.8.2017

Remorse is the rightful weight of an act of betrayal.

It is the time you bear full responsibility, being the catalyst of any sequence, but more importantly, it is the moment you understand why things happened the way they did. It is shame at the recklessness of your thoughts and that spurs helplessness as the carnage turns to ash. There is pain, so, so much pain that your two hands just aren't enough to contain it. It is pleading for mercy at the feet of the ones you hurt, while your conscience reminds you that forgiveness is unjust.

22.8

What happens when a soul breaks? Do we feel it, do we know, or does it slip through your fingers like dry sand without leaving a trace? Every day we dance on our tiptoes, careful not to upset the balance between emotion and void.

"Emotions are nothing but heartache", they say, but of course, we only ever hear of a bitter aftertaste.

"I wish I could delete my emotions". Oh, do you?

I think that when a soul breaks, you can feel it. If you're lucky enough to recognise the feeling, you might be able to scramble up the pieces before they turn to dust. Otherwise you fight for your life.

Because suddenly you're wearing sunglasses at 7 p.m., and it's all the kitchen lights can do to shine a weak glow around you. There's people talking, people walking past you, but the room is empty, and you're simultaneously wearing fifteen layers of clothes yet you're naked to the bone. You're alive, but are you, because you don't remember your surroundings in monochromatic tones. But you must be, you're breathing, you can do things, but you're starting to read between the lines of "losing one's senses".

It's like pins and needles, healing. After your foot has fallen asleep and you begin to wonder if you're gonna have to resort to amputation. A breathless, fearful moment, and then the buzzing. Every sensation feels new, forced perhaps, but you take the time to appreciate those that feel good to you. You appreciate an insect you don't know the name of through the lens of a borrowed camera. A solitary lunch at a hidden beach feels good too. Eventually, slowly, the fog lifts enough for you to see your surroundings once more. You buy yourself a camera, now collecting dust on a shelf from the years that's passed. You play the guitar for the love of your life at the hidden beach; she doesn't question the location but loves it anyway. She doesn't know why, but she might.

You know who you are. It's not your fault, you know it too. The fog will lift.


Edit. I thought I missed you, but why should I? You're still here, and I'm here with you.

17.07

Sometimes I can't fall asleep because I lay awake thinking about death. I am young, and I am surrounded by such healthy, ambitious individuals that the idea of one of us dying would come as a shock. I wouldn't say I fear death in itself, but I fear the mask it might wear as it approaches. Would it be a long spell of suffering, several minutes of crushing pain, or would it come slow and most welcome after all the people I love have long since perished?

I don't want to take this life for granted, nor the people I love, because in a heartbeat, we extinguish so easily like a candle in the wind.

Who do you love

are the people you love the same as the ones you thank? The person who knows exactly what to say at the right time, the person who gave you all they knew, the person who saw your worth, the person who showed you how to fight your demons, the person who draws the line when you don't see it, the person you always turn back to, are they all different people, or all one and the same?

26 May

i read your post over four times. I admit I glossed it over first time through because I doubt my own prowess in handling my fears come alive. All I have to say is this. That if hurting me was what you were going for, then you've succeeded. I have felt forgotten, neglected, lonely, and hurt all in a short span of about a month. But maybe had expected too much of a person and my expectations had fallen short. Maybe it had been too much of me to expect more than just a 'happy birthday', too much of me to expect a 'good luck' on a the day of my interview. Maybe it was too much of me to expect a 'take care' before my backpacking trip to Vietnam, definitely too much to ask how my trip went, too much to expect a goodbye at the end of a call, too much to expect a reply anyways. Yet you always told me never to expect anything at all.

So I Guess I should have expected that.

16 May

i can't love you anymore.
I can listen, but how do I trust someone who lets my pleas for help fall on deaf ears
I can try, but trying so hard only seems to make you think I'll always be here
I can be, but second guessing as second nature is futile in a second hand friend
I can talk, but one way conversations are better in my head
I can forget, but clearly you've got the upper hand on that already
I can forgive, but you apologise and do it all over again

I can't love you anymore, because feeling invisible and worthless go hand in hand, and I deserve more than that.

Don't know the date

you lied to me. After all the things you said to my face you turn around and go complain all about me to your friends. You don't like me at all do you? Just saying things to spare my feelings. Hold my hands and cry into my shoulder and just turn around after all that and pretend I was the only one who wanted this. Maybe you're just the same as her, can't be honest for nuts.

8-4

i don't know how you can, in your consciousness, do this to someone. I'm so humiliated yet I think I bring it upon myself.

28/02

honestly what I've learnt this past year is that everyone is selfish to some extent. Everyone wants to talk about themselves, everyone wants someone to care, everyone wants what they think they deserve. No one gives a shit, and its best to live remembering that fact. Some people are true, and they are rare to come by, cherish their presence. Some can patiently watch you slip into a pit.The others just have you there by obligation or for your service. It's kind of pathetic, but you'll stay regardless.

31-1

No one reads this blog anymore, and from what I gather, people assume that I've been doing fine. In the past five years or so, this must be as far from fine as I have been. There's no one around, and I'm starting to learn that no one puts anyone else before themselves anymore. I can no longer turn to anyone for help without feeling like a terrible burden, which leaves me feeling worse than before, and the poison just keeps festering inside of me it feels like a parasite feeding on my negativity. I'm living in constant fear of my surroundings and I'm slowly losing my sense of self. My chest constantly caves in to pain and I haven't been able to sleep much. But I'm not worried because there's nothing to lose, the part of me that's alive is so minuscule that it won't matter if the larger part of me dies off. It's not real.

"Less than human, less than the meanest ghost"

4am

i can't sleep. And I guess I haven't known loneliness till I wake up at 4 in the morning with the whole world turning its back on me.

What do you do when you are so sure about something, about talking to someone, or going somewhere, but it just refuses to align. It almost feels like fate is avoiding you. I have so much on my mind but no one to talk to. Because those who promised they care, I guess they found out they care less than they thought.

I was so thrilled, so excited at the prospect of you being back. But that's all to it.
It's hurting so.