I'm pretty sad tonight. Warning, can be really demotivating.

Sorry, it won't happen again. I have deleted my journal, and I wanted it, and I needed it, but sometimes I'm sad and I'm not the kind of people that are delicate enough to keep it for myself. If I keep sad things to myself, it stays trapped and the only way I got to get it out is intense self-destruction. So I'm sorry.





A billion words are so much easier than one single act.

I could say a lot of things to you. There's a forest in my head. Sap is running in my capillary veins. I feel the call of wildness as much as I can't live without concrete under my feet. I want to see the world, I want to feel it, to see it breathe and be alive. I want a crown made of bones and expensive sneakers on my feet. I want green tea to be my morning dew and I want to caress the hair on the back of your head very, very, very slowly, without saying a word. The schizophrenic dead god in love with itself I've invented looks way too much like me. I love you Ayzaltus Salbalanjo, I know why I'm obsessed by you. Fifty flavours of a God, fuck me right? This screams "I'm trying to know who I am". Beautiful people with sad, sad eyes kills me. I'd fall in love with my father's murderer if he had pale eyes. I could describe the flat of my dreams in the city of my dreams in the most precise manner. It's all here. Everything has its place. I can give you the key, people are welcome where I feel good, because shit, I don't have many qualities but being supportive is one of them, and if I'm in trust I'll make sure you never ever forget me. I could say on a thousand pages how much I love someone I don't know the face, the age or the name of. Maybe I'm fooling myself? Maybe it's God? I don't know. After all Jesus was human. I have hundreds of lists of the things I want to do before I die. I could tell you how much I love the things I love, how I'd die for them, how deeply much I want the things I want, cry an ocean in your soul on how I want my perfect life to be even though I really love the one I have. I hate that the Internet doesn't allow people to see each other dead in the eyes - more like alive in the eyes. Because pupils are tiny planets and there's a universe inside of me.

I don't know what my husband will look like. I know he exists, that's all. I trust God. Whoever you are, baby I pray for you. I know I love the concept of loving you maybe much more that I love you. I'm sorry for that. I'm still too turned towards myself.

I could swear on fifty bibles how from now on I'm changing. On how now, my behaviour will be better. But guess what... It won't be worth a penny. Words are nothing. I'm nothing myself, and words are even less.

I'd like to write a book of all the things I love. Nothing else. Non exhaustive of course. A list. Un milliard de pages. I love rain outside when I listen to calm songs. I love green tea on Sunday mornings. I love very early walks in the city and fortress made of pillows and bedsheets and Autumn and losing the primal knowledge of being human at the first row in dark concert rooms. I love not to masturbate anymore because it's not who I am anymore. I love watching my cat sleep and sometimes I'm in love with sadness because it's so beautiful. I don't know shit about who I am, I thought I loved only boys, but then I fell in love hardcore with a girl singer, and it was so hard to get over her, and she's so beautiful sometimes I'm asking myself what I really think, and now I don't know, and I can't say I've never lived anything, but I sure haven't lived much, and sometimes I feel that dreaming about love is better than actual love, and the kisses on the back of a dirty old car in the wild America on a soft music background seems much more possible and pleasant in my head than in reality, because anyway I hate intimacy so fucking much because it's even scarier than sharks, and I can't walk more than five meters in the sea even in Britain because I often make nightmares filled with sharks. And I'm bragging when I say fuck my dreams. And I say that I know what I want because I'm terrified. I'm genuinely terrified because I don't know anything. I love God but I can't be sure it exist. Because I'm only human. The only thing I know is that I will die one day, and the thought of dying without singing all the songs I don't know how to sing to another human being seems so hopeless.

The act I'm talking about in the beginning is as simple as: not buying any material possessions (nothing that's not food or absolute first necessity or work material) until I paid all my student loan back. I can talk to you the entire life of a butterfly how I want to do this, how committed I am, but I'm sad, because in my heart I'm not ready, and I don't understand. It's so very humbling. I don't understand how I could quit PMO, but not buying stuff I don't need seems impossible, and my words are wind, I'm not ready, why don't I want to do this? Why does it seems so hard? I know I'll never relapse. But I can't be satisfied with what I already have. It's not that what doesn't kill me makes me stronger, it's that what I love kills me. I'm not smart enough to realize what's needed and what's wanted. I love so much things. I love too much and so I want so much things. I'm tired of keeping this love to myself tbh. Now that I'm not a porn addict anymore, that I stopped focusing on my own pleasure, I want to give some to someone else. I remember how bad I wanted to have another life where I could be a crustpunk. So I guess it's not really me. But shit. I admire them. And here am I again, yearning for other people lives when I fucking love mine. I don't have many real friends but I love my family and I'm so grateful for what I have. Why do I want things I don't need.

Sad. Pretty hopeless tonight. I should go to sleep.




Nobody said it was easy. No one ever said it would be this hard.

 

I don't want to sleep. I'm so tired I could die. Probably gonna delete this thread tomorrow. Sun rises in an hour and I'm here, on the verge of becoming crazy because I think way too much about life, love and myself and because I'm mildly considering, not relapsing, but rationalizing because I feel so desperately lonely. I'm sick of this student hall room filled with shit I don't need and myself, who's not that much more valuable.

And the worst part is that I don't like being with people that much. Fuck. How can I marry someone if I'm that antisocial? I can't become a nun for Christ's sake. I have children to love. I love you people from the Internet, I really do, you made me want to kill myself and then you saved my life, but sometimes you're making my life too easy.

 

I value a lot what you think William, so I'm just gonna accept your words, thank yo for them. They mean more than you can think.

Have the best day.

PS sorry again everybody. I'm not sad often.

 

Thank you so much Eric! Don't wish for that... If you want something you don't have, either work for it, or recognize you either don't want or need it. It sounds incredibly bitchy wow. Anyway my writing is not that good. You know what Picasso said about stealing.

 

Man, I love music more than anything, I wish I had some talent for it... See, we always can find something we'd wish but don't have. The most important is to share I guess.

Yeah, I love this quite. Have to remember it more often. What's art anyway.

 

Ok, I'm super dead sad these days, I feel trapped in myself and like I don't belong anywhere, I think I'm gonna step out of the forum for some days, I need to work. I only fall in love with ghosts with pale eyes. I can't go on like this. I'm so negative.


Niroso, yeah, you're right, it's true. I played guitar for three years, took lessons and stuff, and I still suck balls at it, guess I just should play more because damn I love it. And I have songs in my head I can't play But if I have to chose between drawing and music... Then it'll be drawing. I know I can earn my life with it (partly), when I absolutely can't with music.