You never think you’re there until you’re right there and you think “holy shit, this is it. This is where it all ends.” Then you hope for a plot twist, but you don’t get it because you’re not even remotely lucky enough for a plot twist in this story. Then there’s also the thing where you never know what to tell to whom. Who doesn’t judge you? Who listens to you? Who truly understands you? Who gets you? Who will comfort you even the smallest bit? Who has your back? Who do you trust with all of the above? Shhhh, listen. Lay down somewhere in absolute dark. Listen. Does your heart beat? Barely. Are you able to think? Loudly. So stand up and walk away. Walk away while you still can.


Moments of clarity come by rarely, followed by several episodes of haze. The constant state of not being sure of what the hell happened, what the hell is going on, and what the hell will happen is quite exhausting and infuriating. This love-hate push and pull wave is drowning me in you, day by day. It’s not that I don’t know or that I don’t want to know. It’s also not that I’m not making an effort. I’m making all the efforts in the world, but somehow I am lost in this unknown haze where I don’t even know if you’re in it or not. I don’t need a map, I can figure out the directions on my own; however, I need to know the distance and I need to know the timeframe. It’s physics and math –it’s practical and definite. I mean, otherwise I’ll be wondering around the same circles over and over trying to reach something purely hypothetical. I want to be clear, but I can’t. You stop me. Sometimes it feels like I’m alone in this war zone and I have to fight every battle on my own which is fine because I’m used to it, but then I can’t see the other side. Who the hell am I fighting? What if this isn’t even real? What if I misguided myself into this? What if I’m clinging onto flashes of something that I made up in my mind and you know, my heart for that matter? What if you’re just several episodes of haze stuck in the clarity of my existence trying to eat away my soul?


So many things I wanna say, so little importance they have these days. Maybe not so little of importance, but more like so few ears that they’d matter to. Not so few though, more like only one set of ears that I need to say these words to. I wanna say so many things but I can’t form a complete sentence. It’s all words and sounds, bits and pieces of a chaotic mind.


It will never happen. I can’t think of a reason as to why; I just know it won’t happen. It’s actually quite a bit of a sad story. It’s a lingering sad story. It’s a lingering sad story because you fall down right at the peak. Right when and where you think you’ve won the game. You fall down right when you think there’s hope.


I would miss you. I would miss you before winter; before the lies. I would miss you before the need for cigarettes or fights. I would miss you when it’s 3am on a Friday night. I would miss you when you’re here. I would miss you when you’re there and not here. I would miss your hands in my hair. I would miss you on a rainy night, when street lights are beaming on the wet ground and colors are fading into back. I would miss your laughter in the crowd. I would miss your eyes, wondering about my eyes. I would miss you now, tomorrow, or 50 years from now. I would miss you.


Would waiting make everything disappear? Would it resolve this wrong (or the most right if I may)? Would it ease the situation? Or would waiting make it stronger? Would it make it feel right? Yeah, will make it more desirable and more precious. Would probably make it unforgettable. Lusting rather.


We don’t matter to people as much as they say we do. It’s not a question of importance. It’s a question of priority and affection. Yeah just because you don’t see it, doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist. But caring works differently. Principally, it is based on showing. When you don’t show that you care, it is perceived as not caring.


I find it hard to believe. It’s not that I don’t want to, because I do. I really want to believe in it from the bottom of my heart. But I can’t help it; I’m scared. I’m never scared of anything. It brings me down, it’d be my weakness, my end. I’m never scared of anything. It kills me to know that something could put me down, crush my thoughts. But I am scared. I’m scared of losing. I’m scared of getting lost. I’m scared of it all being bubbles of hopes and dreams. Pop! Gone.
Are you scared too?


God I used to hate talking. Nobody can hold up a good conversation these days. I still do. I think it’s whoring yourself out, but it’s so satisfying too (with the right person of course). It’s like downing a giant double patty bacon cheeseburger with extra white cheddar cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, grilled mushrooms and grilled onions, lots of ketchup and mayo, side of large sweet potato fries with shit ton of chipotle sauce and beer.. then getting hot fudge ice cream .. so disgustingly filling and satisfying. Like ew but wait.. oh fuck yeah.. “right there, right freaking there”.


But I’m shy and I’m quiet and I barely get close to anyone because I know I’m the one that gets screwed over for all the chances that I’ve given and all the patience that I’ve wasted. After all, you need to surrender to someone. You keep refusing, but you do; you have to give in at some point. Human nature is to get close fast, fuck hard and ditch just as fast.. but oh well.


Then right when and where my fingers are floating in your hair, I’ll very gently grab on to your hair..push your head just a tiny bit so your neck is more exposed.. I’ll lean forward and I’ll kiss the back of your neck, right where your hairline ends.. I’ll then slowly wrap my arms around your neck and hug the shit out of you while kiss-biting into your ears; running my hands inside of your T-shirt slowly down, deep deep down to grab a slice of that sexy pizza cause honey, pizza is sure as hell much better for me than you will ever be.


You believe in the absolute uncertainty of the necessities in your life. You believe in the sun rising in the morning to tap on your window for a quick bother. You believe in the whiskey for your cold thoughts. You believe in the tear that’s hiding bashfully in the corner of your eye. You believe in this thing called silence. I believe in this thing called peaceful presence.