I have this horrible obsession plaguing my mind about you and her and no matter how i try to convince myself it's only in head and you're being true and honest, like you said, i know deep down it's actually happening. What's really eating away at my soul is why am i not enough or what do i need to do more so that you can be happy with me. Apparently you cannot and i can't convince you to let her go. Fine then. I won't stand in the way of your happiness...

...fast forward to 2024...4 years apart (has it really been so long? so much wasted time, such futility in trying to see how far you would venture with your deceptions and lies)

i find myself closer to the icyness once more, only a slight chip or crack here an there, but the cold will fix them soon enough, frozen merciless beauty will engulf everything again. it doesn't really occur to me to mind about you. truthfully, it's more my own shame towards myself that i find appalling how i could ever come down from my tower to a lowly miserable mortal such as you and let you darken my cold radiance. 

The precipice is far off now, the tower gates are closed, the shrill of the wind cutting through to your very bones, only a sign remains in letter of my own devise, of my own blood and tears..."love is like the plague and noone should have to suffer that much". 

As i sit here in my mind i see it all resurfacing again, the memories of my glory flooding in, the light and darkness all in one blinding everything in sight. 

Only just...only just...a bit more patience till i can cover my sheer naked body in that gown and until i can lift that crown with barely a finger. Oh such sweet sensual pleasure that will be and how i long to lose myself in myself

Not that much...

I'm sure i have a world of things to say and discuss; i'm sure just writing about them would make everything simpler and easier; i just don't know what to say right now or how to say it, for that matter. it might take some time. i haven't got much to say but i just chatting with anne rice on fb kinda makes want to smile.

Ghastly orange moon

There's this ghastly orange moon outside, like some rotten peach, festering, ready to burst, much like my soul. My own body cannot contain such blind hate, despair and agony, all at once. It seems like apart from blind i've also been rather deaf to the people around be, to my own thoughts, to my own conscience. I feel beastly tonight, i feel like ripping apart flesh and feeding off the gory insides till i throw up rivers of blood. This is not the world i live in and i have no idea how i stumbled into this, how i began to feel ache, how i let my guard down so easily, how i got horribly screwed over because of it. I knew what i was doing here at one point, but it's somewhat hazy now, like a blurry memory from a long-forgotten dream. I'm not one for running from things, but in this case the choice is obvious. If i stay, i'll lose my mind in the process and there is no call for that. There's this part of me that's starting to surface, slowly, ever so slowly...it's the ice, the level-headedness, the sheer logic, the one that take matters into her own hands and makes decisions. The moon is rotting more and more by the second; soon half of it will be putrid and the other just sweet juiciness. Funny how sweetness is so close to revultion, how dream turns into nightmare and how the road to hell is always paved with good intentions. I look into the abiss and i see betrayal, jealousy, selfishness, i see the worst in him with every breathing second.
I will be my own undoing, or at least part of me, the stupid, gullible part. I stopped seing myself in the equation at one moment, i forgot i existed, i stopped being my own greatest passion. Such a dreadful mistake. i have nothing but contempt for myself, i deserve nothing better from myself, i should vacate my own body until otherwise instructed. The prospect of becoming an emotionless, lifeless, beautiful carcass doesn't seem to be such an awful prospect. Oblivion yet again, ignorance and absolute bliss. It worked fine every other time, so why should it fail me now. The mold and the rot is slowly drifting, subsided by stacks of ice and deep marshes. The tears have faded into a sly, elegant, yet ominous smile. The peach is fully rotten, but no longer a peach, it morphed into a glistening black poisonous fruit.

Defragmenting

Tried crying today...didn't work. I tried drawing up tears from my every fibre, but...they wouldn't come. The feelings of helplessness and dread were overpowering, don't get me wrong, but... i simply couldn't do anything about it, i couldn't pull my mask off and just cry. I didn't realise it at first, it seemed like i had failed in something, like i couldn't control myself to do something, but, as i stood there, the world didn't sound like the place i was in, but something different, better, something loooooong gone. I congratulate myself at the end of this day for one harsh accomplishment: regaining my composure, my million discarded masks, my old double-edged self.
...
Red strawberry-stained fingertips, a pungent smell of decadent summer, huge 3-legged mosquito on my lamp...and it all feels so surreal, so out of place and, yet... mesmerizing. Matter-of-factly, i loathe growing up, realizing that very little of the world around me is quite how i envision it, but at least partly, here, in this bubble-gum town, everything somehow clicks and time freezes over. There's nothing different between the first paragraph and this one, just 3 days distance and geography, but this universe is like a breath of fresh air in this smoggy world.  I wouldn't go back, but i hate having to accept the unacceptable, the disappointments and ... whoever it is you are that i don't know, and never really knew. The mosquito is gone now. Hope i'm not drained of blood by the time i finish this. My keyboard is a slightly pinkish hue at the moment, the water is dripping in the bathroom since i didn't go to the trouble of closing the tap properly, my hair is a mess of golden tangles, myself is at ease and happy; i know where this is going.

Momentum of nothing

it's almost a shame, a damn shame to waste your time, to waste someone else's time, to waste time...time never to be had, time always craved and coveted, time long passed, time just passed, the past, the now, the momentum of every second you spend like you somehow own it. probably, not so often, but most of the time when you look back on things, hours are just massacred in futility and thoughts, ever so many, get lost in the process of neglect. there is somewhat of a revival in acknowledging things, there is infinite possibility in acting upon the acknowledgement, but sometimes i just yearn for things i don't truly or entirely want. getting something you didn't really bargain for leaves you with a weird metallic taste in your mouth, like chewing on too many silver coins, regardless of how nice they might be. i just want things for the sole purpose of having them without the implication of having to do something once i attain the object/person/desire in question. call me a hoarder, call me a collector, call me vain and insensitive and I'll revel in it. then again, give me time and i'll have trouble finding something to do with it. it goes without saying that i will end up doing something but just doing something is hardly time well spent, it's just a waste, and how i'd wish i'd have my own personal time with it's own flow, with a freeze here and there and a very big forward button to move me on to the next stage.

Muchness

My essence is torn to shreds while i indulge in chocolate-coated almonds and revel in my present condition. i call it condition since it's mainly of a medical nature, aka my sinuses are practically clogged up, and it's giving me a frightfully delirious headache. somehow it escapes my consciousness how events are brought about, how they unravel, how and where exactly i play a part in them. something slow has started in me and... i find i have control over very few things nowadays, which is rather unsettling in my mental agenda. i require so many circumstances, i need so many things, so many people, so many words, so ...much. i think i need so much, because, as one Mad Hatter once put it " i may have lost my Muchness". As you get older you slowly become more afraid, more thoughtful, patient if you will...patient with impatient thoughts. Patient nonetheless. I miss the days when a book or a cup of coffee in the morning was the answer to all that was inherently wrong and out of sorts with the world. One never had moods or chills or thrills, swings or tantrums or outbursts, you worked with what you got while attempting to change the universe in the process. Anything can happen once you put your Mind and Muchness to it. It usually did and it still does...but the equation for now requires circumstances, so many loose ends that it looks like a miracle if something works out for the best.
Every now and then i catch a glimpse of myself...just thinking out-loud. I'm so dependent on so many people around me, i strive to please, to humour, to soothe, to comfort, to amuse, to enlighten, to act, to... do so much i'm practically exhausted by the time i should be having my afternoon tea. This, somehow, cripples the Muchness and there is never time enough to let it replenish. it's because it all keeps swirling in your brain, and as you world expands the swirl gets louder and louder and you'd rather be living in a tiny box.
However, by then, you'd be missing out on all the fun, like getting to see Gaga in an Egg-dress which might count as replenishment enough for the Muchness. My eyes are sore from the flu and the mascara, the dust outside, the wind, the cold, exhaustion. I never did give much thought to how they might feel, Muchness or no Muchness...

morning ... very mundane

Dishevelled yawn for the better part of the past minutes, lingering to the display of the Google homepage ( i just find myself staring into it sometimes, for no apparent reason, but it does have some sort of calming, brain-debilitating, amnesic effect) trying to negociate myself over the pretentionsness of having to start over a new day. bleak, dreary and, all in all, plain boredom creeps over like so many misplaced thoughts of things i'm supposed to be doing, i.e. turning the better part of the world's tree supply to useless scrap papers for my insignifiant nerve-wrecking exams.

yoghurt and jasmine tee in hand i find myself in the same place as every morning, doing the same useless stuff, reading the obnoxious books... well this morning is a tad on the different side of things, since i'm not in bed and i've had the audacity of starting up my laptop so as to prevent myself from falling asleep ( to be quite honest, i have not the slightest idea why i need to sleep, or my body yearns it so - things would go so much smoother without it, though i do now of diverging opinions on the matter).

so... not much more that i can stand my brain dripping in slow freezing droplets onto my neck and having to partake in the whole process. i think i want to x-ray a neuron just so i could kill it in a different way.