People enter your life unexpectedly; most of the times they’re even uninvited. They come and go throughout your life. If you’re lucky enough some of them stay. But most of the times nobody does. You’re left with memories; memory is a painful thing. Sometimes I think of all the people I’ve come across to all these years. People I’ve even forgotten, people who might have forgotten me. People I’ve shared things with; moments, memories. The friends I got drunk with, the friends that drove me home, the friends that shared their last cigarette at the crack of a summer dawn, the ones that called every day just to say hi, the ones that never called. Gone. You cannot help but invest in new people. The wolf pack instinct I call it. I never wanna see them again, you know. I am curious about what they’ve done with their lives and how they’ve managed but I never wanna see them again. What we once were has forever ended and there’s no reason for bringing it all back. Just two different lives that were at some point travelling on the same highway.

I finally did it. I've ruined it all. Or so it seems. I let most of my stupid dark selfish self out and I've discovered the extend of self-destruction I can reach. And it feels awful. Awfully lonely. Awfully painful.
Didn't mean to, you know.

Can't you just fix it all for me now? Please.

This is my own path to Hell.
Get out of my fucking way.

If you're out there...just...stay there.

Κάποτε σκέφτουμαι το ενδεχόμενο να είσαι αλλεργική στην ευτυχία. Το ενδεχόμενο ας πούμε να διαλύεις ό,τι καλό μπαίνει στη ζωή σου τζιαι να προτιμάς να μεινίσκεις στην ασφάλεια (;) της δυστυχίας σου. Χωρίς εκπλήξεις, χωρίς αιφνιδιασμούς, χωρίς καταστάσεις που να μεν μπορείς να χειριστείς. Χωρίς επενδύσεις. Χωρίς ελπίδες. Χωρίς τίποτε να σου ταράσσει τους κύκλους σου. (Γιατί πολλά απλά εν θα ξέρεις πώς να το χειριστείς). Γιατί μόνον έτσι έμαθες να έσιεις τον έλεγχο. Ενώ στην ευτυχία πάντα καρτεράς να πάει κάτι λάθος. Σαν να τζιαι η ευτυχία εν προσωρινή γιατί εν κλεψιμιά. Τζιαι πάντα κάτι πάει λάθος, έννεν; Πε την αλήθκεια, εν ανακουφίζεσαι; Σκέφτεσαι ότι επιβεβαιώνεσαι τουλάχιστον. Ένιξερω αν νομίζεις ότι τάχα εν σου αξίζει. Όι, εν νομίζω ναν τούτο. Νομίζω παραπάνω φοάσαι. έννεν; Νομίζεις ότι εν πιο ανώδυνο να μεινίσκεις σε μια γνώριμη κατάσταση παρά να ρισκάρεις για μιαν πιθανότητα ευτυχίας.

Brings out a sweet slyness I completely adore.
Cos even bad wolves can be good.

Times like these I feel useless. When all is about three letters I feel like no one, non-important, not even necessary. Because I don't seem to be able to heal nothing at all.
I'm right behind you. And every time you stop, I stop with you. And I just stand there waiting for your cry, a scream, something...anything. But your silence, as always, keeps me alert.

Comings and goings

I've let my feelings grow.
And I've let my mind rest for a while. I've learned to sense and I've learned to cry.
Now I'm learning how to return to my previous state.
I've put myself in the snooze mode.
I wake up every couple of weeks or so and take a look at the world.
It feels like Hal.
I'm afraid. My mind is going. I can feel it. My mind is going. There is no question about it. I can feel it.

Yesterday I decided that you really piss me off. That sick girl down the corridor goes to church every Easter and bloody Holy Week. Now, be honest here. Do you really believe she's coming because she's an incense junkie?  She is nearly crippled for fuck's sake! Shame on you for investing on sick people. That's really miserable.

Dear child,
I'm just a soul whose intentions are good...

Act I
The perfection I see in you is undermined by your mundane existence. It's not that I don't love you enough. It's just that I can see you getting old, and tired, and withered. And you simply aren't that extraordinary to me anymore. As if I don't care enough.

Act II
Your wrinkled smiling eyes are still the liveliest I've ever seen.

Technology seems to continuously fail me.

I fail her as well but she’s more of a trouble than I am. Yeah, she.

It’s definitely a “she”.

The last few days I cleaned my entire flat. Twice. I cleaned and redecorated. Twice. In four days. Cleaning always wakes up my sleeping creativity and I keep discovering ways to squeeze my things in my one and only closet in more practical ways.

Charge me with boredom. Do, please.