i hope you’ll get better soon tho we could go and watch a movie or something.
i saw a lot of things during the past two years i’m thanking noone.
Nantene T.
i used to get hurt too fucking much. i used to fall on everything, and bleed, and bump into walls and scream because it made bruises on my skin, i was 90 lbs and alone, falling, bleeding, and alone. one night we were high on opiades and we drived straight into a wall. i was driving. while i was inconscious my friend said, i was hoping you would do this. the friend, the scooter and my head were fine. we got back at his house and we took pills with the others. when i look at the scars now, i hope that someone will touch them someday and understand what it is to live in your own private hell.
oh my love is that you again ? i recognize your eyes, i recognize your smell, i recognize everything i remember everything.
what i remember best from this mashed period is joy. love and joy. i can’t remember the taste of drugs but i know deep down they were here too. i can see their blue satellite eyes - and their fair skin i remember the smell of our bodies when we were asleep, early in the morning, and the laughs we had under our dark circled eyes. it had surprised me to remember joy and love instead of the massive chaos we created together.
NO, DON’T.
people change and their faces change too .
for the white bride i saw and didn’t recognized in St Petersburg. i loved a guy once. he dumped me and i cried for almost a year. i never cried again because i dumped every guy i’ve dated after him - they cried and they took pills because of me, but i still did it. Why ? am i so afraid to lose everything again ? am i so afraid to be hurt ? some say love is not a game but it is. you win. you want to win. you aim to win. that’s love, that’s power, that’s life. get used to it.
a friendly reminder that you weren’t there when i needed you i drawn myself for so many years, looking up to your head through the neuro disease wich was eating me inside. i don’t hate you anymore, but i still don’t like myself very much.
i took this crap in Berlin. if i had a proper camera it could have been a great picture but instead it’s just crap. i was drunk in a bar and i loved the lights on the toilets walls - i spent half an hour watching the lights here. my friends were hanging tough inside, everything was made of glass and i had just entered a new phase inside my sweet depression, i had xanax pills wandering in my pockets. it was one of those days when i whispered to my wrists «please get better», but they didn’t, thank god it was winter i didn’t have to wear short sleeves. the scars healed - my friends died. sometimes i just want to look at the ceiling and pray a god that does not exist.
beautifully self-absorbed
my name is Casper the fucking ghost tell me you like me the most tell me you like me the most i cried on the train when i saw there was none to haunt
i remember this day because i was happy. i was feeling lucky i was feeling ok. I don’t want to die anymore, because i’ve grown up, but for how long ? i wanted to collect memories because they’re hauting me and i hate them. i made something up, as always. of course i made things i’m not proud of. i lied, i cheated, i hurt people i loved. i also made good things. i made drawings and i wrote. i stayed alive. it is not the proportion of bad things and good things you do that make you a bad or a good person. i don’t feel sorry anymore.
june 2014