29 = 11.


This train smells funny,  and I'm on my way to a place I hate. A place I hate for choosing to keep you in it's darkness. A place you made me see it different. A place where I belong, and later on,  belonged.
Hush,  dry your eye...

I spark a memory, and light up my cigarette.
I close my eyes, and see what I didn't have, what I never was,  who I am,  what I'll never have,  who I will become.
I can read between the lines.
I can see,  with eyes wide shut.
I'm alone in here, again, in that fortress I thought forgotten.
The fountain of 13 faces.
I look at yours, and it burns under my skin.
Soul mate, dry your eye...
I'm here.
You're there.
You're here.
You disappear.
I'm here.
I'm here again.
I can smell spring in your blood.
You're there.
I wrap my arms around your shadow, and I can hear your heart beat.
Soul mates never die...

Time doesn't exist here.
It's irrelevant.
Everything is irrelevant.
I'm angry,  and I want to shout, cause I can't feel anything anymore.
I'm numbed by everything you'd call beautiful.
I'm sick of it all. 
There's no religion, no despise, there's nothing.
This world is suffocating , there's a pain that never dies...
Read between the lines.

8th floor.
I see her face,  and I know I'll always love her.
I see your face,  and I know I'll always love you.
Did you forget the 366th day we added to '09?
It was each other we despised.
We never died.

I follow the stairs to my broken home.
It began.
Chaos is reaching perfection,  one more time.



"Listen to that song."
"I tried. It's not coping with my mood."
"And your mood is...?"
"Numb. Until I hear your voice again."

I remember begging you not to leave, back then, when we were just teenagers.
You didn't.
I did.
And I don't regret it enough,  cause none of "us" would have survived until now.
There are days when I'm calling you,  days when I'm craving for your presence, days when I regret not being there, years since I last slept in your arms.
They never end.
"what if we'd still be"s never end.
They never do.
You've been my lover, best friend and my family.
I've been your lover, best friend and your family.
We've conquered worlds together.

We stopped using the word "us" shortly after our love burst onto each others lips. We became a whole,  fuelled by desire,  power, love and lust.
We ruined it, while holding hands, with tears in our eyes, in the middle of a capital I hate. There were people watching,  and there were people passing by. Time was running around us, and I thought I'll never see you again.
We just stood there in silence, sealing our love with salty tears, and one last kiss.
We moved on and forgot about each other. 
We forgot to cherish our presence.
We never forgot how to love each other.
We cannot trust anybody else but us.

i know now, we're sowing our bloodstream on different paths, but we'll always have one heart.

You never left.
Thank you.



Felt like reminding myself, I need to create in order to keep a connection with my inner self.
Here's a letter taken from one of my all time favourite books, Joey Goebel's "torture the artist":

"I am sorry to be the one to tell you this, but you’ll never be happy.

I dont mean to hurt you by saying that, I say it because I think it’s only fair that I am honest with you before we begin. I hope you appreciate this because no one will be fair or honest with you from here on out. So again, I’m telling you right now you will never be happy. I put it in writing for you and you are very welcome.

I want you to go outside on the sunniest, sweatiest day of the year and quietly say it out loud: “I will never be happy” . Even in the heat, you should be able to see your own cold smoky breath aknowledge the statement. The only way to avoid seeing your breath is to say it proudly like a wise man.“I will never be happy”. Try it sometime.

When I think of you, I think of a cartoon cloud hovering over your head. A private torrential downpour. I see you’re soaking wet, your entire being drooping. And you are always sick because you cant stay dry. Depressed by the bad weather, you cry yourself a little river, but the tears evaporate and form into another cloud that rains on you even more. You can’t win.

It will be sad. You will never get the girl. You will not save the world. You will never find true love. You will not find a trustworhty friend. You will never be satisfied. You will never have enough. The grass could always be greener. The grass will always need mowing. Your days will be long and contain no fun. Your nights will be lonely and not much else. You’ll always be waiting for better days that will never arrive. And you will most definetely will never have peace of mind.

There will be days when you will collapse to your knees and screamingly plead your case to whatever might be listening. But the Thing Called God cant help you, and it wont. I think of heaven as being an irradiant crystalline metropolis, and in the tallest sparkling skyscraper. The Major stays busy making deals behind the door with no knob. He is forever unaccesible, no taking calls at this time. And then I envision all the perfect blond angels devoid of genitalia and feet, congregating and pointing and laughing at all of us down here saying “Those poor little things!” in between giggles. They will get a kick out of you.

We are more likely to answer or not answer your prayers than they. We will control your destiny and watch over you. Not gods or angels. Not the Dead. Us. Men and women, adults with tangled webs and hidden agendas. Former children.

We will allow you your needs, but deny your wants. We will see to it that any requirements for long-term happiness are kept just out of reach. If by some mistake you experience the sentation that resembles happines, then by all means, embrace it for all it’s worth. Make the most of it because we will not let it last.

Again, I’m sorry. It is true what they say. Life is not fair, especially for you. The only consolation I can offer is that the things you will be making amid all the loneliness and suffering will by far outlast your dispair and our cruelty. Our torture is temporary, your work is forever. With this in mind, we all win in the long run.

So in behalf of everyone that you will ever meet, I apologize in advance for every heartache we will cause. You are in for a rough time, kid. Consider yourself warned.





I'm not hiding anymore behind a fake smile, a cold attitude or a party animal.
I come in front of you all, broken beyond repair, wearing nothing but pain.

I am tired.
I am tired of smiling and having to move on, because that's the "right thing", when I really don't want to.
I am tired of pretending to be a heartless bitch and a powerful independent soul, when I'm actually just tired, confused and powerless.
I'm tired of people coming back and forth in my life.
I am tired of working my ass off for a fuckin useless piece of paper called "degree", and a handful of money that barely keeps me going.
I am tired of being a useless piece of shit every time I hear my mom crying on the other side of the phone, when I'm thousands of miles away from home, and can't do anything about it. 
I'm tired of lying to her and my dad, telling them everything's good,  or everything's fine,  when it's not.
I'm tired of craving to go home, when home doesn't feel home anymore, and neither this place.
I'm right back from where I started: there's a roof above my head, but yet, I feel homeless.
I tried picking myself up, stitching my wounds, burying myself in work, just so I can hide from reality.
But...let's face it: 2014 was probably the worst year of my life.
Started the year with a break up, followed by deaths in my family, depression and lots of health problems.
Now, I'm living the shock of losing a friend, which apparently died about a year ago.
I don't know how, nor why I didn't find out until now.
All I can remember,  are a few conversations we had over the phone, and how he managed to pick me up, from thousands of miles away, when I thought I had nothing.
We didn't speak too often, but the amount of times we did, was more than enough to create a friendship.
I tried getting in touch with him a few good times, and there was no answer, anywhere.
If I only knew...
I can't cope with his death, just for the simple fact that the feelings and the emotions burning in me right now, send me right back at being 17, when I've lost someone I cared a lot about.
I can smell the depression, the insomnia has begun, I have a terrible migraine, and there's a bitter taste behind all of these.
I am tired, weak and powerless.
I am sick, I feel fucked,  and I am broken.

Stay away, leave me alone whoever the fuck you are.


My own, my dear

Your tired unfamiliar face, says it all.

My heart is about to break my chest, and my lungs are full of smoke.
My mind feels empty, and yet, my thoughts won't stop.
Neither the questions.
I'm confused, upset, disappointed,  and quite torn apart by the difference between your lies and the pure truth.
Music notes dance on my spine, among the silence of my room. The sound of a candle burning, my heart beats,  my breath.
I light up a cigarette, and get lost in a drag and it's smoke.
Today everything stopped. I'm caught in a time loop for far too long. I'm repeating my mistakes and live them, learning more every time.
I get more disappointed every time.
You lie every time. 
You hide.
You run away.
You're a coward. Hypocrite.
We're both hypocrites.
I'm probably worse than you.
You've cut me with your first lie, and no matter how much I tried to make it heal, the wound would get bigger with every truth you'd hide.
I stopped taking care of it.
It got infected.
I got infected.
With you.
It hurts.
It hurts again.
It burns.
It itches.
It makes me weak and powerless.
It makes me stronger with every tear that hits my cheeks.
All I have left, are beautiful memories torn apart by nightmares and words.
By needs.
By hours spent at work in the noise of a Monday evening.
By unfamiliar faces.
By a real smile and a true hug.
Makes me somehow numb.

I don't know you anymore.
You're just another stranger that I used to trust.

Fuck you, my own, my dear.


October scraps

I don't want to do this, but I have to.
I feel the same.

somehow, along the way, I've managed to lose myself. It was somwhere in between the phrases, somewhere in between the worlds, the years, the countries that I'm torn apart.
The memories, the thoughts, the tortured emotions that got ripped by happiness.
I'll admit it: I was happy. I was so fuckin happy and I couldn't take it. It was not mine to have, to enjoy, to cherish.  I was meant to crave it, to taste it, to bury it deep down my mind until it bleeds out.
I feel the wounds under my skin and they are much deeper than I expected. They are itching, they are burning and nothing would cool them down.
Emotions are screaming inside my chest and it feels like they're about to rip it into pieces. In a million little pieces. Just like that book, my favorite book.
I'm my own James frey and I am addicted to you, to your laugh, to your silence, to your smell and your innocent bright blue eyes .
I am craving for it right now, and i can feel it crawling under my skin.

I miss you.
I miss waking up next to you, and I miss the craving of getting home to see your sorry face.
I miss loving you and letting you know that. fuck it! I even miss arguing with you.
If I could stop loving you, by simply pressing a button,  I'd break it. I'd push it so hard, that I'd break it.
I miss the smell of your moms cooking, and the heat inside the house, on a gloomy day like this.
It fuckin hurts that I have to play cold, that we can't be friends,  or lovers, or anything else. 
It hurts.
It just hurts.
Make it stop.



There's no better way to hurt me, than losing you.

I open the door hoping that on the other side I'll find the real me. That me that I'm scared, so fuckin scared of finding again, but instead I find rain and no shelter.
I light up my cigarette and put on my hoodie. Half of my face can't be seen, and I feel anonymous. 
I hope that around the corner, I'll find shelter, but the door's opening. 
There he is, like 17 months ago, surprising me, stopping me from following my path, ruining my nightmares and mending wounds that cannot be healed. 
Here he is, ready this time, to have his own shield smashed. He's left his guard down, his hoodie's on, his cigarette is burning. 
We stare in each others eyes, and we cannot see what we want to see. He has the questions and I've lost the answers when I smashed my shield. 
I am afraid of him.
I am afraid of losing him. 
I am afraid of being myself. 
I am afraid of everything that once hurt me.
I am afraid of everything that can hurt me. 
I am afraid of what hurts me. 
It scares the shit out of me, and he's silent, he thinks of what he's done. 
I've lost it and I break in pieces. 
I tell him everything I feel.
I show him everything I feel.
He's scared and silent. 
I know I'm losing him, and I'm not stopping, I want him to see me as I am. No masks, no strength, just human, like him, like you, like any other of us. 
Not holding up my shield, not wearing a mask.
I've lost. 
I've lost everything I fought for.

We fall asleep, apart from what we were yesterday.