the greatest love stories have been written by hopeless romantics, people with half-eaten hearts by lovesickness and people that used to live in very different times than ours and in places where love had another meaning. I live in the 21st century, I am the generation of all kinds of crisis and sometimes, late at night, I am incurably cynical. See, there is a trully peculiar way in wich sometimes my hormonal reactions tend to synchronize with my mind. If when in a good mood, on a day with no more than just only a couple of failures, I shall daydream and find ecstatic excitement in the wonder that a bowl of fresh bright crimson strawberries is. Those days are a rare finding and the most common occurence is the mood very precisely summed up by the phrase I so very much enjoy spitting out to everyone ignorant enough to ask what is the matter, "all is shit". Very easy three words I can use whenever a very generous ammount of nagging is due. Don't judge me too fast. I do, I try to think all shiny and smiley and roses in sunny valleys with giggling children running around and shit. I do. But there is just this thing, a thing I prefer calling 'the slit tongue of my nihillistic evil twin that drowned in black bile some time ago' that whispers so softly in my ear that reality has no fancy words to say for itself and all its defenders died the exact same way the rest of us did and will, naked and alone, into oblivion and absolute nothingness. Every time I unearth a little bit of ambition beneath all the junk of my postmodernistic neurosis and father-figure collection of complexes there is just this bloody thing reprimanding me, sort of, telling me not to be a fool, not to fall for all the gooey romantic stuff that only exist to trick our minds into a more bareable version of life and human emotianal availability. to be realistic.
I don't know anymore.. I am propably acting out on the frustration I have been holding back for quite some time now for the educational system in greece and the immense supidity that paralyzes the minds and hearts of too many people around me, leaving me, most of the days, to drown alone in my own stupidity and emptiness.
I want to feel all the cells of my body pound with life and all my bodily tissues screech in agony while my mind races through all the thinking routes and expenditions it can carry me and while I scream, cry, ooze and breath in all the excitement, the hurt, the love, loneliness, despair, hope and serenity I ever could, in just one second.
in a fraction of very short lived spell so that I can never know what anything trully feels like when it roots your soul but only when it slays like a papercut, so violent and bloody at first but right away just a scratch that will very soon heal itself.
and then I want to say goodbye, confess that I am in no need for a prayer, and depart.
in one second from now.