I never wanted to be this involved in something that remains so typical, and so common. I always wanted to be outside the mainstream, and live my life by my own self-defined rules. But I guess it just doesn't work that way. Because I met you.
It's funny how still 2 months after it happened, I'm still burying and digging up these memories over and over. It's taunting, and I am starting to see the unhealthiness of it for me.
All I ever do is procrastinate and feel down. All I ever write about on this blog anymore is you. It has to stop.
A certain other person told me one day that if I wasn't to move on fast enough, I would remain stuck in this infernal war of attrition for a very long time and that it would destroy me in the end.
Well that person was fucking right. I am destroyed.
The world is another place now. I'm indifferent to everything. I no longer walk out into the street on saturday mornings and feel well and truly alive amidst the crowd of people walking down the main streets of the city. I don't feel like I'm worth it. I'm already a quarter of the way through my life and I'm already bored with the routine. And even when I step out of the routine, I get bored because I depend on the fucking routine to not be fucking bored.
You see, after all, getting over you isn't the only war of attrition in this world. Life is a fucking war of attrition and there is no way of getting out.
Everything going on just bounces off the walls I've built around me to shield my true emotions from the world. If you add that to my mind comparing every single thing I see into what it would've looked like when we were together, you get a pretty long list of dark thoughts.
Life is becoming claustrophobic. I can barely breathe.
They say life is an airplane, and if you're not happy, you can always jump out. Well then show me the fucking emergency exit doors right now. I'll put up no fight whatsoever. Not right now. Trust me.
Meanwhile, you seem to be getting along well. And that is all I wish you to do. I don't talk with you enough anymore to know if you're truly happier, or if your new life just conveniences you more. In whatever way, I just hope it makes you happier than I could've made you. I don't deserve happiness. I'm an empty shell, numbed by my self-inflicted pain and lust for everything that fucks with your head.
You say I'm the best guy you ever met, and that I deserve happiness more than anyone. I find that hard to believe. You've got the world to see. I don't. I just don't care. I've seen enough already.
And so I'm destroyed. I've been deconstructed piece by piece, leaving nothing but rubble and wires on the ground. I can blame nobody else but me for this. You just did what was best. And trust me, you made the right choice. At least you escaped.
All I've got to do now is tell myself over and over that it's alright and that nothing lasts forever. But it's not just that. My hole is a lot deeper. You see, I've lost all sense of emotion. On the other hand, I've become the best at faking emotions.
All my friends and acquaintances will tell you I'm an active guy, with a spark in my stride and a glimmer in my eyes. Trust me, I'm nowhere near that stereotype. I've been eaten away at the core ever since I was reborn as an adolescent. Eaten away by something still unknown to me. Eaten away by pain, misery, and inexplicable melancholy.
I laugh for the sake of laughing, cry for the sake of crying, smile for the sake of smiling, mourn for the sake of mourning, and live for the sake of living.
I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me. Al I know is you used to sooth that pain.
I have been flat out depressed for the last three years, and during those last three years the only moments where I didn't feel down were the moments spent with you.
Now that you're gone, I'm filling this mysterious misery with my painful loss of your love. Now that is the only thing that can sooth me, that can bring the wound as close as possible to being healed. That is my lifeline. And that is why I cannot let go. Not now.
I'd rather kill myself in the next few weeks still being in love with you, than get over you and go back to the monotonous pull of the boring life ahead of me.
It sounds incredibly exaggerated, and it is. Very slightly. But I could go that far if this tense situation continues.
I need to get through this, and come out of the tunnel.
Should I hope to see you on the other side?
Gas Panic
by Oasis
What tongueless ghost of sin crept through my curtains?
Sailing on a sea of sweat on a stormy night
I think he don't got a name but I can't be certain
And in me he starts to confide.
That my family don't seem so familiar,
And my enemies all know my name.
And if you hear me tap on your window,
You better get on your knees and pray,
Panic is on the way.
My pulse pumps out a beat to the ghost dancer,
My eyes are dead and my throat's like a black hole.
And if there's a god would he give another chance?
An hour to sing for his soul.
'Cos my family don't seem so familiar,
And my enemies all know my name.
And if you hear me tap on your window,
You better get on your knees and you better pray.
'Cos my family don't seem so familiar,
And my enemies all know my name.
And if you hear me tap on your window,
You better get on your knees and pray,
Panic is on the way
Panic is on the way
Panic is on the way
Panic is on the way.
No comments:
Post a Comment