lunes, 21 de octubre de 2013

Lost entry, back in May (?) 2013 [FLASHBACKS OF PAIN]

Please don't go 
I'll eat you whole, 
I love you so,
I love you so.

(This is an entry of my personal journal 
I carried with me when she was gone)

Dear significant other:

When I listened to this song I thought it was perfect due to the actual situation I was (and you were) into. I crave you, I don't want you to ever leave me again. I think this time, I won't be able to get through with it. I think I would just fucking give up. So please don't hurt me anymore, please? 
I love you so much. Just like Conor Oberst says, "you're the yellow bird that I've been waiting for". But I feel like you are going to do it again, or you already are. Maybe you got bored of her, or the situation or whatever; or even worse, she got bored of you and that is why you came back. Because she gave you up, and you knew I was going to be here, like always. Waiting for you, because it doesn't matter what happens I'm always going to be here. But that means you don't love me as much as I love you. It doesn't really matter how much you hurt me now or before, I'm still here. My heart still races when you say my name, and I'll never stop adoring you. 
I am growing tired, that is true.
I feel like everytime you turn your back on me, my head explodes and I suffer a heart 

My cheeks are rivers, conducting great flows of tears that pour from my eyes. 

Last time I literally couldn't stop crying for weeks, I couldn't talk, I wanted to kill you so I could stop my suffering. The night was my worst enemy. I became a monster of the night, a creature or ghoul, a soul that was forever in debt with life, with a past lover that killed me, but I couldn't understand why, that's why I kept on mourning. I was a creature insanely (and still) in love with you. I don't think you actually comprehend this, I've never felt like this/that before. I was in physical pain, I developed a cancer that started to devour me, and I named it Eloise. You made me fall, beg on my knees and pray for the Lord to forgive you, forgive you for making me suffer like that. I crawled on fours, to the land of the disappeared, that place where all the missing people go. The dead, the missing little girls after being raped by their lords. I stood there in the doors of hell and I saw your face deep down in the soil that all those miserable ghouls were standing on. I knew then, you were miserable too.


Well, that was a little out there.

I used to think that writing with tears pouring out of my eyes was the worst method ever. I still think the same way, but I lost that sense of shame that didn't let me upload or even write how I felt on my worst. I learned to wear out my emotions to start my actual healing path. Even though this has been one of the most vulnerable things I've ever let anyone read, it kind of feels plastic and utterly stupid (why? beats me).
Lately, I've been trying to portray my feelings in stuff I do, to not overload  my guts with grudges and resentement. This commitment I'm doing of actually telling people how I feel/think is being pretty hard, I don't recall making such a change on the way I live since I was like 10 when I decided to lock myself up (something I really regret now).
It's been really hard for me uploading stuff that just flows out of me, without any filter or any shackles of language. I truly like uploading here because there isn't much people that know about this blog or actually care enough to read one of my entries. Because now that I stopped going to therapy, writing and drawing and talking and everything that's "therapeutical" has been so helpful with everything.
I must admit, back in October (2012) I was really considering the idea of deleting this blog and stop writing for good. I'M SO GLAD I DIDN'T. Every now and then I get back at my old entries when I was 15 or 16 and I feel so touched, like if all those alters of my past are actually walking right beside me in everything I do and everything I ache.
I guess that if you're one of those alters, I must thank you for holding my hand in the way.

miércoles, 16 de octubre de 2013

The undeniable and perpetual nagging

Letter to whom may concern (or the reasons on being a fuck-up)

Everything’s getting pretty chaotic, within my wits. You hang your hopes around my head, building castles in the sky. Like we’re half married or half degutted, we cling on each other to skip the meaningless chitchat. I guess you’re more than just a wooer, or my truelove; it’s more like an aching heart-desire.

I’m always worried sick thinking that it might get weary being around me. I’ve always been the gloomy, lifeless, repelling type; which makes it sort of difficult to live due to the fact that I am a fuck-up. [I really hate my therapist for telling I am the reason people leave me]

I want to burn this infinite fondness I have towards you. I’m a fuck-up and will always be. Do you still love me? I really can’t picture myself with someone else; it gets pretty chaotic within my wits.


I feel you deeply within my bones, like you travel in my veins, slowly oxygenating my body. You’re the healer and the demise; you slip through my pores and possess my anatomy. I like it right here, living inside my guts, with you. It’s warm and cozy, it smells like a meat market or carnage; sort of sweet and vinegary. We dandle, touch and kiss under my skin; all I can hear is the erratic rhythm of my heart. This is all I want, everything I need, all there is for me.

Be still, my heart.