I walk.

The bleeding won’t stop.

My head feels fuzzy. Ears and eyes muffled up. The lights of the passing cars hit my glasses and make me feel like I’m walking past rambling stars (like in a cartoon time-travel scene).

Everything is in slow-motion AND fast-forward at the same time. The cars move slow on the street; it’s like I’m watching a mud-ridden river trickle its way forward. The people zing past me as if I’m walking through treacle.

My stomach feels like I’ve ingested a pint of bleach.

As my feet lead me to my door I get this feeling of impending doom. Panic comes over me and sits on his favourite spot: my chest. I can’t breathe.

Here we go…

Stop. Breathe. BREATHE.

Ok.

I stumble into the shower. The water rinses some of the panic off my skin. The steam opens my pores and lungs. Breathing is now steady.

My hormones take over on msn and my nerves are taut. Every muscle in my body is ready to twitch when…

…it’s him. On the phone. Inane crap again. I’m not even listening.

Then fear grips me.

It’s that panic again. NO! No! Don’t panic. Where’s the fuckin’ button? Crap. It’s too late. Fear is here.

I hear his voice and my face turns to stone. My muscles tense. My body becomes rigid.

(Fucking bodies. So limited!)

The room spins around me. I try to sit up. My head spins some more. My body aches. Panic. Panic. Panic.

My love is away. Communication is erratic. I need to breathe. Breathe.

I gulp down air and water cause my mouth and throat are dry as the desert.

Get up! I must get up! Do some housework. Ok. Yes. That’s it. No! Stupid body! Don’t try to faint! Stand up! No! I’m not gonna die. Push that thought away for now.

I hated having to listen to his whiny voice. You crap! You piece of shit! Shit! Piece of shit!

(That’s IT! Anger!)

You filthy liar! You piece of shit. You miserable little man.

Shit. Again with the breathing…

My love talks to me. He walks me through our best times. He talks me through it.

I’m safe for now.

Just one more night.

One more.

Breathe.

I’ve known you for 114000 minutes.

In this time you’ve managed to find out EVERYTHING there is to know about me.

I’ve let you in. You’ve seen my core. You know my innermost thoughts. You listened to my darkest, most personal and guilty secrets.

You’ve seen me naked in more ways than one.

And still you’re not running.

And every single time you hold me I feel (for the first time in my life) that you are holding ME. That, knowing everything, you are there by choice and not some weird coincidence or power-trip or self-deceit or fake feelings or pure loneliness. You make me feel like your position in space and time is a consious choice.

Your hands locked around me, your lips just brushing mine, my spine tingling, our whispering flooding my hearing “…put your hands on my face…” singing in each others mouths you immerse me in love.

A bit later, you hold me again. Our bodies glisten; the smell of the room and your breath on my ear make the wetness between my thighs shiver. There’s nothing I can’t do for you.

Then again, as easy as you make me pant and my heart rush you suddenly pull the weight off the world and you let me be in your arms. Just be. Myself. Beside you. And I melt. Everything melts. My heart beats slow and steady, your pulse and breath are the only sounds inside my head as I rest against your chest, your body becoming the perfect resonator.

You’re in me and I feel your pulse and I listen to your breath and your gasps and I feel your touch and I love you all that time. And you love me all that time. And it’s not just a dirty word anymore. It’s become real so suddenly.

I wouldn’t have imagined… how could I?

It’s not safety. It’s not lust. It’s nothing I know. Nothing I’ve felt.

You peel my inner onion of walls without shedding a tear.

Thank you.

I’ve been happy lately. Happy in a way I don’t think I’ve experienced before. It’s not better or worse. Just different. So different than anything I’ve lived / imagined / hoped for.

All these amazing feelings and thoughts and stuff i’m feeling/thinking/doing, they kinda work like a counterweight. They make all the shitty stuff look so unbelievably SHITTY! I mean… they really ARE awful, but sometimes it takes something extraordinarily good to highlight something that’s bad.

It’s really strange.

I’m thankful and happy and scared. People tend to be nice but then they come round and rip your stomach out. I sure hope I keep my stomach for a long time yet.

My stercus posts will continue as usual. I have a venting spot for all my HAPPEE and stercus is my venting spot for all my SHITTY. Be patient. I’ll go away in time ;P

I was a hand grenade

that never stoped exploding

You were automatic

and as hollow as the “o” in god.

I have the infamous Anti/Retro-Midas touch.

Everything I touch turns to shit.

I’m sorry.

I find myself starting to write posts that never get completed.

Sometimes they’re just in my mind (as I’m walking, as I’m working, as I’m browsing the net, talking with friends). I write them in my head and as soon as I try to type them they evaporate.

More often than not, lately, they’re all about anger. At me mostly.

I just sit around, smiling, simmering, boiling inside. Thinking all the shit I’ve done to myself. You really don’t need anyone else messing you up when you’re like me.

And then -suddenly- you find yourself in a position that you couldn’t even dream about. And you sit and stare like an idiot. Pinching yourself.

I’m blue all over from all the pinching.

The big bully try to stick his finger in my chest
Try to tell me, tell me he’s the best
But I really don’t give a good goddamn
Cause
I got my lunchbox and I’m armed real well

Next motherfucker’s gonna get my metal

♦◊♦◊♦◊♦◊♦◊♦◊♦◊♦◊♦◊♦◊♦◊♦◊

It was never about the pain.
It wasn’t even about the disgrace and the shame.

“Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.” This may well be one of the stupidest sayings ever. Whatever the sticks and stones and fists break… it mends. What words can break, nothing can ever heal.

What I really despise you for are the moments where you reached in me and destroyed what I had for you. For all the times when I could just see red. When my eyes were blinded with images of your skull, crushed, your fingers, broken. For all the times I got numb.

You didn’t get it. You didn’t get ME. You never wished to see me.

I’m nothing like you. I don’t revel in your pain and misery.

Don’t try to stick your finger in my chest.

Powpowpow.

Since I can remember myself, I’ve never considered myself beautiful, never thought of myself as capable/business-like, never perceived myself as smart, never thought I could really amount to anything.

I had to explain last night.

I had to explain how -when you’re like this- you either cringe and fawn and flinch or you just become rock and show nothing.

It always amazes me how people think I’m confident.

I think I deserve an Oscar!

It’s over today
The heat is gone, time is gone
F for fake
I feel no wrong, hide no wrong
I love this place, the lights
Under this face, so dry
Only way to change, give yourself away
Don’t be ashamed, next in line
Close one eye, just walk by
In these days
I’m breathing stone, crying is done
I’ll win this race
I’ll leave alone, arrive alone
Love this place, the lights
Under this face, so dry
Stripped to the bone
I did no wrong
Truth is my name
Give yourself away
F for fake
Give yourself away

Faith No More – Stripsearch

“(…) close those little hands
Now they’re fists
Now they’re little fists
Punch a hole in me with those fists
If you ever wanted to punch a hole in me
And find out what’s in me
There’s really nothing in me
And nothing stays the same
And nothing ever happens to you that will happen to you again (…)”

(Hands Up)