Although I ran away my entire life, from being like you, here I am. 
As normal as you are...
We don't have different needs, just cravings, and sometimes those are the same as well. 
Here I am. 

In a double bed, with someone on my right, breathing loud and deep, sleeping. 
Here I am. 
I need this person to be on my right, so I can go insane every time it makes me feel sane, safe, miserable. 
Here I am. 
Having friends, to let in, to tear me up inside for their own needs. 
Here I am. 
Listening to advices I should have taken long time ago. 
Here I am.
Wishing this would be a single bed and I'd be different from you, having different needs and cravings. 
Here I am. 
Fighting, again, with a past that's not mine. Fighting with a past I wish it'll be gone today, cause I don't want to deal with it anymore. 
Here I am. 
Being me. 
Losing it. 
Losing interest. 
Not being you. 
Here I am.
Starting a new life tomorrow. 
Different than yours. 



It's 4 in the morning and I just lighted up my cigarette. 
A fat cat is rubbing around my bare feet, and two cockroaches share a bit of sugar  next to the coffee machine. 
I just stoped crying in a full apartment of people that I knew and forgotten, in one of the biggest capitals in Europe. 
I blow my nose. 
I take another drag of my fag. 
I kill those cockroaches. 
The cat leaves. 
Someone is snoring. 
I wanna go home, to a place that's not really my home. I wanna be there arguing, dancing, kissing, hugging, enjoying a smoke, watching a movie or making plans for the weekend with him. 
I finished my fag. 
Also my sanity.
My patience. 
I want a spliff, I want a sleeping pill, I want something to stop these thoughts that electrocute my mind. 
Another cockroach shows up.
I kill it.
There's another one on the cooker. 
It's full of these little fuckers here.
The fat cat is taking a shit, I hear him in the bathroom, messing up with his litter box.
The neon light is making a really annoying sound that gets louder and louder.
The fat cat comes back. 
It sits in front of me and waits for me to pet him. 
The cockroach is on the coffee machine, and the sound is getting so loud, I think it's gonna pop. 
It stops.
The cat leaves.
The cockroach is somewhere I can't see it. 
My fag stops burning.
It's so silent that my thoughts could wake up the entire block of flats.
My feet turn purple from the cold floor.
Tears start falling on the same cold floor. 
The fat cat comes again and meows so silent, that's telling me a secret. 
I don't get it, but I promise her I won't tell anyone. 
The neighbour upstairs is probably having a glass of water. 
"Chill. Don't think too much."
A person from home told me this tonight. 
It's a guy that no matter what I say to him, about him, do to him, he's still there and dares to call me a friend. 
A person that no matter what he says to me, about me, do to me, I will always call him a friend.
I light up another cigarette and focus on the smoke. 
I think of someone I lost, that's just dust. 
Her memory faded away in this apartment. 
I hear her voice in my head telling me to stop worrying, getting upset. 
I want her to be here. 
She is here, probably as a few pieces of hair somewhere under the wardrobe. 
I wanna go home. To a place that's not really home. 
But he's home to me. 


You didn't.

Have you ever thought of a world that's just yours?
Have you ever thought how easy it would be to not feel the cold outside, on a November night?
Have you ever thought how it would be if the past would stop chasing you for a moment? 
Have you ever thought of stop loving, involving, destroying something that's not yours?
Have you ever thought of healing someone else's soul?
Have you ever thought of walking in someone else's shoes?
Have you ever thought that this cigarette in your hand would burn out in the same place as all the others?
Have you ever thought of the people you hurt?
Have you ever thought in understanding who hurt you and why?
Or why would you hope for a better day in what you call tomorrow?
Have you ever thought of how much it hurts for other people to not reach home?
Have you ever thought of not being able to call any place on earth "home"?
Or why would I open myself to you?
Have you ever thought of a place that people will always wait for you to come back?
Have you ever thought how many pieces of sand you have in your bag?
Have you ever thought of how many places you've seen in your life?
Have you ever thought of how many times you would be let down in your life?
Have you ever thought of how many things you have to lose when you leave?
Or how many fags you've smoked in your life? 
Have you ever thought of how many spiders never meant to hurt you, but died?
Have you ever thought of how many times in your life you've disappointed the ones you love? 
Have you ever thought how many beers you had this summer?
Have you ever thought of just letting go of everything you have for something that you thought it's better?

I did.


No one woke me up when September ended

The bed was empty. 
So as myself. 

I the red light of morning, I slowly openedy eyes. He was there sleeping on his back, then roled over, facing me. 
His warm blue eyes smiled at me and his lips turned into that smile that's still giving butterflies in my stomach after all this time.
- good morning.
I closed my eyes for a second and reached for his face. My hand collapsed on his pillow, and his smell woke me up. 
He wasn't there. 
He was gone. 
He was gone and I couldn't do anything about it. 
Or I've probably done too much in the first place. 
My eyes started burning, bursting into tears straight away and I found myself covering my head with his pillow, while trying to understand why everything hurts so much.  
How did I become so weak? 
When did I become so weak?
Why do I need this person to feel the way I feel?
I felt his hand in my hair and I turned around with so much hope in my mind, to another empty bed side and a purple wall. 
I couldn't take it anymore. 
His smell was everywhere on and around me, his presence was torturing my mind, the need to tell him that I need his help to feel human, left me incomplete on an empty bed. 
On his side of the bed.
-I won't get the chance to see you smiling in the morning here, won't I? 
-then how come I feel you here? 
-you want me to be here. 
-this feels like...
-I'm not dead. 
I smiled at the empty wall, then looked at my room. 
I was going nuts. 
I couldn't stay here anymore. 
Having him since my early steps of a new life helped a lot, making me have the stupid illusion of a never ending story.
Of my life story. 
Of our life story. 
Of a story that's gone bad. 
Like my entire fuckin life in general. 
I pulled up a ripped pair of dirty jeans and  kept that three days old t-shirt I was living in.
Under the stack of clothes that was getting bigger day by day, I've taken two different socks. One was his and one was mine. 
I've put on the docs he gave me for Christmas, ignored the mirror and took his brown hoodie that was hanging on the door. 
I was ready to face another day, wearing him and our memories together. 
-I am not weak. I am just in love. 
Just in love. 
Is it possible that I've never been in love before? 
I smiled and went down my road. The hookers that usually stay at the bottom of my road, were probably sleeping at this time of day. 
So as the guys who tried to rob and stab me a few months ago. 
The tattoo on my ribs started itching and I thought of the day I've got it. 
He held my hands and kissed my forehead that day. 
I told my mind to stop. I need to let go. 
But I don't want to let go. 
I don't want to let him go. 
I don't want him to let go. 
I don't want him to let go of us. 
To let go of us. 
To let go of me. 
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. 
It smelt like him. 
I opened my eyes and in the red light of morning, he was there, on his side of the bed, on that pillow I was hating so much lately. 
I closed my eyes again and reached for his face. 

My hand collapsed on his pillow.