Denial.
Sometimes I wonder if I have some sort of malfunction where I need affection all the time. Then of course, most of my time, I want to be alone. I never really want to be alone, and then I wonder if there is some sort of balance of the two. Hold me, but don’t touch me? Love me and need me, but don’t call me? That’s far from how I am, but its sometimes what I crave. I can’t let go. Is that something you are taught at a young age? How to let go? I’m sure I could find a self-help book on it somewhere, but can you teach an old dog new tricks? Maybe feelings are too strong to be let go of or replace. Sure you can replace any feeling you want with a new one, but the new one is far from genuine. Then you develop real feelings for this person you basically used to hide the old emotions and by that time it’s too late. They’re untouchable because they know. Maybe they have known all along, they just know its time they don’t deserve to be second best… can’t blame any of them, really.
I came back into London a few days ago… as quietly as I possibly could. I’m not sure why, maybe it’s just that ‘alone’ thing again. Gareth’s here, as it is his house. He’s been nice enough to let me move in, seeing as I was asked to leave my former residence at Brian’s. I can’t really blame him for asking, although I did. I know there are a few people worried about me, though I ask them not to. Catherine flew in yesterday. I was supposed to call her hours ago. I should have known better than to mix medications… hyped up sedatives can do wonders; I must have slept almost 20 hours. Which only makes up for the lack of sleep I have been plagued with lately. Lying in bed, counting bumps on the ceiling, or cracks in the plaster, it drives me insane and never puts me to sleep. I get to that state where you are almost asleep but your mind is still too active to actually let go. In this time colours swirl together, worlds collide, thoughts become more surreal than you could have ever imagined. It’s almost like the tip of insanity… a swift turn before you run off the road.
"I can't be alone, so don't you dare leave me"
That was ours. How I feel like a bastard. He was right.
A lot is on my mind. Where to go, what to say, how to mend, how not to mend. It’s not even worth getting started on.
I want to call him.
Use this time as creative force. Make every piece something new, something beautiful and hand written. Strum a few chords on the guitar and turn your heartache into a melody. A beautiful melody. One that someone will buy your CD and find it on accident… miss their favourite track by one number. Then cry as the words touch them some place deep. They recognise this pain, this ache, this breaking. It won’t be a sad song though. It will have a happy beat to it, maybe just to spite myself. I could always title it “Self Loathing”. Although it will probably end up being changed to “Slowly Trembling”. An upbeat number about rebuilding the pieces. I will immediately follow it with a deadly slow track about how rebuilding doesn’t matter because that part of you will always be missing no matter what. “Void”.
So many things needing to be done, so much time to do them in and so little motivation left. Despair. Falling. Need. Want. Hate. Alone. Alone. Again, as always.
I came back into London a few days ago… as quietly as I possibly could. I’m not sure why, maybe it’s just that ‘alone’ thing again. Gareth’s here, as it is his house. He’s been nice enough to let me move in, seeing as I was asked to leave my former residence at Brian’s. I can’t really blame him for asking, although I did. I know there are a few people worried about me, though I ask them not to. Catherine flew in yesterday. I was supposed to call her hours ago. I should have known better than to mix medications… hyped up sedatives can do wonders; I must have slept almost 20 hours. Which only makes up for the lack of sleep I have been plagued with lately. Lying in bed, counting bumps on the ceiling, or cracks in the plaster, it drives me insane and never puts me to sleep. I get to that state where you are almost asleep but your mind is still too active to actually let go. In this time colours swirl together, worlds collide, thoughts become more surreal than you could have ever imagined. It’s almost like the tip of insanity… a swift turn before you run off the road.
"I can't be alone, so don't you dare leave me"
That was ours. How I feel like a bastard. He was right.
A lot is on my mind. Where to go, what to say, how to mend, how not to mend. It’s not even worth getting started on.
I want to call him.
Use this time as creative force. Make every piece something new, something beautiful and hand written. Strum a few chords on the guitar and turn your heartache into a melody. A beautiful melody. One that someone will buy your CD and find it on accident… miss their favourite track by one number. Then cry as the words touch them some place deep. They recognise this pain, this ache, this breaking. It won’t be a sad song though. It will have a happy beat to it, maybe just to spite myself. I could always title it “Self Loathing”. Although it will probably end up being changed to “Slowly Trembling”. An upbeat number about rebuilding the pieces. I will immediately follow it with a deadly slow track about how rebuilding doesn’t matter because that part of you will always be missing no matter what. “Void”.
So many things needing to be done, so much time to do them in and so little motivation left. Despair. Falling. Need. Want. Hate. Alone. Alone. Again, as always.