Παρασκευή 7 Σεπτεμβρίου 2012
Πέμπτη 6 Σεπτεμβρίου 2012
if you feel the need to shout, shout.
this is what they call closure.
from what i can say, it is a one person job and everone will get in your way while you struggle for it, following a kind of sick cosmic joke.
so yes, the way it works is that you pretty much wake up one day and have a revelation, or maybe just something less heavy, a thought maybe, that makes you feel more agreeable with how things are.
'it is okay'.
some days i wake up and even when i know that everything is a very unpleasant shade of shit i say 'fine'.
maybe is just exhaustion, and suddenly it dawns on me how weary i have grown overanalyzing my problems and every little detail that goes wrong and i just give up. but i guess that is the best anyone can hope for, that 'fine' , the shrugg of the shoulders and the ease with which you can then turn your head around and continue doing whatever else meaningless thing you were doing before.
no one is going to hold your hand and help you cross to the other side, because really no one can guide your heart and your mind better than yourself. it will only baffle you if too many voices get in your head. the only voices that belong in there are your own and your demon's and ghosts. yes, you consult them too. the ghosts i mean.
i have proven to myself once more that it is actually much harder than i thought to find what you want, and to find yourself inspite of everyone else's hold in your life. because before the 'revelation' of the closure comes the day when you wake up and realize that not only you do not know your own insides, but that your insides are all over the place and they don't obey you.
for from what i know, no ammount of therapy and no psychanalyst, no matter how talented, can erase certain things and memories. certain feelings that even forty years later will stab you as poignantly as they did the very first time. and that is 'fine'. i think..
from what i can say, it is a one person job and everone will get in your way while you struggle for it, following a kind of sick cosmic joke.
so yes, the way it works is that you pretty much wake up one day and have a revelation, or maybe just something less heavy, a thought maybe, that makes you feel more agreeable with how things are.
'it is okay'.
some days i wake up and even when i know that everything is a very unpleasant shade of shit i say 'fine'.
maybe is just exhaustion, and suddenly it dawns on me how weary i have grown overanalyzing my problems and every little detail that goes wrong and i just give up. but i guess that is the best anyone can hope for, that 'fine' , the shrugg of the shoulders and the ease with which you can then turn your head around and continue doing whatever else meaningless thing you were doing before.
no one is going to hold your hand and help you cross to the other side, because really no one can guide your heart and your mind better than yourself. it will only baffle you if too many voices get in your head. the only voices that belong in there are your own and your demon's and ghosts. yes, you consult them too. the ghosts i mean.
i have proven to myself once more that it is actually much harder than i thought to find what you want, and to find yourself inspite of everyone else's hold in your life. because before the 'revelation' of the closure comes the day when you wake up and realize that not only you do not know your own insides, but that your insides are all over the place and they don't obey you.
for from what i know, no ammount of therapy and no psychanalyst, no matter how talented, can erase certain things and memories. certain feelings that even forty years later will stab you as poignantly as they did the very first time. and that is 'fine'. i think..
Τετάρτη 5 Σεπτεμβρίου 2012
"why are you here?"
"what do you mean? i am here with you." she laughed intentionally foolishly and resolved to hide behind the lense of her camera.
" you know what i am asking. why did you come here to be with me? more importantly, why did you ask me to come here with you in the first place?". He was asking questions not so much being interested in the replies to come but only testing if there were going to be any replies at all.
"i am trying to close a vicious cycle. i am making sure that we will never have any reason left to be with each other, to look at each other." . The truth of this statement was not as mean as it was meant to sound. It was meant to save them both.
"what do you mean? i am here with you." she laughed intentionally foolishly and resolved to hide behind the lense of her camera.
" you know what i am asking. why did you come here to be with me? more importantly, why did you ask me to come here with you in the first place?". He was asking questions not so much being interested in the replies to come but only testing if there were going to be any replies at all.
"i am trying to close a vicious cycle. i am making sure that we will never have any reason left to be with each other, to look at each other." . The truth of this statement was not as mean as it was meant to sound. It was meant to save them both.
goodbyes are filthy and dearly overestimated
is there only one?
He knew my name for 6 years and i knew what kind of music he liked. We have been together once and twice and at times we have shared silently our seperation. He liked old movies, like i did, and he was almost the only one with whom i could find common ground on art. Well, not art, music and films. He didn't know art. He will never. He is too self involved for it. He was always impossible to hug, the unfortunate combination of too short a woman and too tall a man, and the day we agreed to greet each other for the last time he had to go down two stairs so that i could put my arms around him without fearing that my head will fall off from behind. If i ever had the guts i'd ask him to dance with me on metal, but the extent of my inspired promiscuity could only attain dates on the Parthenon and in the sole park of Athens. Trying to be alternative we always ended up being dissapointed and too comfortable with each other than our social standards would allow. I would prefer never to hear of him again, but then again, i am indifferent.
He, the other one, was all that a girl listening to metal would ever want. He had three facial piercings, three streching earings, and three body piercings. When i met him he was there to have his left nipple pierced and i my right eyebrow. He had a sleeve lenght tattoo in progress black and red, with the face of a devilish figure surrounded by black flowers and such. He was somewhat freckled and had dark ginger hair, he was not that tall, he was kind and he always swayed along to the songs he liked when they played. He was the potential perfect incarnation of a good year or two, or a good week maybe. Of course i met him from the friend of my friend and i have ever had the chance to study him for three hours. I am fairly certain i will never hear of him again.
Him.another than the other one. He was all I ever wanted. brother, friend, lover, husband, child. there is not much that can be said about him. right now i am on a wager with myself to see if i will ever be able to forget him and will ever be able to let the idea of him go. he is the only person i could ever touch comfortably and i think i was born to fit into his arms. this all of course is silly. I trully fear i will never see him again and even if i will he won't be mine.
He knew my name for 6 years and i knew what kind of music he liked. We have been together once and twice and at times we have shared silently our seperation. He liked old movies, like i did, and he was almost the only one with whom i could find common ground on art. Well, not art, music and films. He didn't know art. He will never. He is too self involved for it. He was always impossible to hug, the unfortunate combination of too short a woman and too tall a man, and the day we agreed to greet each other for the last time he had to go down two stairs so that i could put my arms around him without fearing that my head will fall off from behind. If i ever had the guts i'd ask him to dance with me on metal, but the extent of my inspired promiscuity could only attain dates on the Parthenon and in the sole park of Athens. Trying to be alternative we always ended up being dissapointed and too comfortable with each other than our social standards would allow. I would prefer never to hear of him again, but then again, i am indifferent.
He, the other one, was all that a girl listening to metal would ever want. He had three facial piercings, three streching earings, and three body piercings. When i met him he was there to have his left nipple pierced and i my right eyebrow. He had a sleeve lenght tattoo in progress black and red, with the face of a devilish figure surrounded by black flowers and such. He was somewhat freckled and had dark ginger hair, he was not that tall, he was kind and he always swayed along to the songs he liked when they played. He was the potential perfect incarnation of a good year or two, or a good week maybe. Of course i met him from the friend of my friend and i have ever had the chance to study him for three hours. I am fairly certain i will never hear of him again.
Him.another than the other one. He was all I ever wanted. brother, friend, lover, husband, child. there is not much that can be said about him. right now i am on a wager with myself to see if i will ever be able to forget him and will ever be able to let the idea of him go. he is the only person i could ever touch comfortably and i think i was born to fit into his arms. this all of course is silly. I trully fear i will never see him again and even if i will he won't be mine.
Σάββατο 1 Σεπτεμβρίου 2012
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