S Pink Premium Pointer Anyway, moving on ...: For how much longer?
People used to remind me that "not everything's either black or white", but that doesn't mean they don't exist.
Because, where is all that grey coming from?

Dienstag, 8. April 2014

For how much longer?

I will never bother you
I will never promise to
I will never follow you
I will never bother you

Never speak a word again
I will crawl away for good

I will move away from here
You won't be afraid of fear
No thought was put into this
I always knew it would come to this

Things have never been so swell
I have never failed to fail


- Nirvana, "You Know You're Right" -

These lyrics keep following me around.
It's like I can more than just relate to them; I feel them, I live them.
Does it really have to be this way?
How much longer?
I feel stupid, insecure, like I got it all wrong and nothing is real or at least not the way I see it.
Negative things, even if they're as small as small can be, always have a more powerful impact on me and their emotional aftermath is always more intense and longer-lasting than with positive stuff. I can laugh about a joke for minutes, but then it's gone until I happen to think about or re-discover it for some reason. And be it the funniest thing I've seen in weeks, it's not going to stay with me very long.
Give me a minor disappointment and my mind is going to be busy for hours, if not days. Such things fade at a very slow pace and are immediately brought back up again when reinforcements arrive, in form of other little details which didn't turn out quite as I expected.
The past weekend was full of those annoying little buggers that kept me on the lower end of the happiness scale for days now. I'm not going to go into detail here about the what and why. Most of the stuff is actually really stupid and not worth mentioning at all. And some things are not even my business or don't have anything to with me directly - they just affect me because ... well, just because.
Nonetheless, what bothers me the most is that it doesn't seem to stop. Since Friday last week I haven't had an emotional high for longer than just a few minutes before I noticed something that pulled me back down almost instantly. Then it keeps gnawing on you, spreading through you like a disease. Then the next thing comes right on top, and then the next. It's like when you've misplaced a Tetris block and the ones that keep coming from above all have the "wrong" shape, so there's nothing left for you to do than to build new mistakes on your old ones without being able to correct them 'cause the blocks keep descending too fast.
It wouldn't be so damn exhausting and disheartening (never used this word before ^^) if it wouldn't be the same thing waiting for me "down there" every single time: memories of what had been, of what had happened, of what I've lost and now hurtfully miss, thoughts on what it is/isn't now, what should not have happened and what could've been instead. I know about the pointlessness of thinkin' about it, but I can't fight it - it's overwhelming me time and time again. One moment I'm on the brink of feeling fine, and just a second later I can't breath and start crying. Day after day I perform a balancing act on the edge of a dark and dangerous abyss.
I keep writing this shit down. I've already written it countless times. It doesn't change very much, I know.
Why doesn't it change?
For how much longer does it have to be like this?
Is it ever going to change?
Why does it have to be like this?
Where is all this leading to?
Uncertainty. Every waking moment of every day it's waiting for my mind to trip and fall, so it can catch up on it, lay it under siege again, bang on its doors and tear down its walls a little more. Not a day goes by without sharing a few tears while trying to sleep, when it's dark and quiet and nothing else to do but to think and feel.
I have not the slightest clue if what I'm doing is right or wrong or if it's anything at all.
People are telling me that it's brave and admirable of me to get all of this stuff out so publicly. They like my writing style and try to encourage me to keep on doing what I do, be it the writing, my job, the thing with my teeth or whatever. For the blink of an eye I'm happy about and grateful for it. Only moments later their voices begin to lose weight, become transparent and start to float. Shortly thereafter - *poof* - the compliments have gone up in smoke. You can still smell traces of them, watch the last thin layers of'em shifting throught the air, but essentially they're no longer there. Although I don't consider them worthless or would call them anything remotely dismissive, I can't get a grip on them for long. They're like a breeze of fresh air blowing through my pit of boiling sulfur - pleasant, but it won't last. I don't want to be disrespectful. Still, that's the way it is.
Why can I only trust in the things I want but not in the ones I need? Because I can choose the things I want. What you need is kind of forced onto you, and it's not supposed to be superior in any way - it's always just enough/good enough. That's absolutely fine and it's what makes the things you need so right. But it's also what makes the things you want so wrong, ever so tempting...and wrong.
Why is it that I can't see the things for what they are?
Why do I always want something else?
Why do I always wish for more?
Why can't this be enough?
Because I know that there's more out there. I already had it, saw it, touched it, felt it, lived it. Then it disappeared. I was tainted by it, and now I want it back in all of its seemingly endless awesomeness.
Why? What good has it done me, except for the unimaginable pain after losing it?
I was happy back then.
I want to be happy again. I don't want to settle for less.
But what I had was fake. Now I have ... truth?
I'm not sure, not anymore.
I don't know where to hold on to, what and whom to trust.
I don't know what to do ... so I  just keep doing ... something.
I don't know if it's good or bad.
I don't know if I'm ever going to know for sure.
I hate this shit.
Over and over again.
And for how much longer?


It's affecting fucking everything.
Do you know the feeling when everything beautiful you used to know catches fire right in front of your eyes? Like, when there's too much beauty and you just can't handle it. You KNOW you can't hold it. You KNOW you're gonna lose it sooner or later.
Not only do you see it, but you feel it - your heart feels like it's burning while someone reaches into your chest and squeezes the shit out of it. In the same moment your brain is about to burst through your skull to let off the pressure and get rid all of the disturbing crap that's going on inside. One hand is holding your chest, the other one's grabbing your head trying to hold back your demons. You're trying not to look directly at the flames, yet your mind's eye doesn't grant you any form of mercy - you can see, everything, every motherfucking thing, burning, and you can feel it as well.
It hurts.
You cry, weep.
There's nothing else around, it's just you and your pain.
You try to convince yourself that soon it's gonna be over and you'll fall asleep or be able to think about something that cheers you up.
"It's not real. It'll go over soon. It's not as bad as you think it-FUCK YOU-FUCKTHiSHiT-FUCKiTALL-JUSTSTOPiT!!!"
Tears like a waterfall, and only one refuge left: your one hope, your one happy thought, the sole reason why you're still here.
... and a question ...
... no, a plea, a prayer ...
"Please, tell me how much longer. Please, don't let it all be for nothing."

What do you think of this last section above? What would you call it?
Desperate? Sick? Insane? Sad? Pathetic? Holy fucking shit?
It's a bit of everything. But please take it as my version of the "after-sex selfie".
It's not always like this, but often enough. The coming-down from the high of an orgasm is anything but fun.
So, yeah, guess I have to be brave to go through that on purpose more than once a week.


Boy I really hope that everything's gonna work out just fine when I get my set of dentures on Thursday. I hope they fit, I hope they'll look good, I hope I'll get used to them fast, I hope I'll be able to speak properly again. Maybe that will get me out of my hole a while longer than a few compliments about "my work" and the new season of "Game of Thrones".

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