Walking through the dark and mystical woods she got lost. Every step taken was an uncertain-like one. The wind whispered noxious things and the fog started growing thicker flowing maliciously. It took her a moment to notice there was a small cottage near by: it blended so well amongst the trees that its presence was almost unnoticeable. It looked dark and forgotten but it didn’t feel quite abandoned – the small cottage transmitted an ominous sensation, almost like it had life itself. Something resided in there yet the place looked gloomy and unoccupied.

Curiosity is not always a bliss: when she got inside she regretted immediately: the place was dusty and had no light except by the moon’s pale glow. The fog continued to grow thicker and thicker hindering her vision. She had a glance of a bright spot in the middle of the dusty mess. She could be hallucinating out of fear and amusement… or there really was something there other than the moon trying to emit its light.

Trying to reach the object she noticed tons of tiny, delicate boxes, and found out that the little bright stop spot came from one of them. She opened it and a gentle light filled in the room. She didn’t have time to explore the room now that there was some decent light there because she froze. Immediately. A terrible lullaby started playing and a small, damaged, yet realistic ballerina started spinning. She tried to move but her limbs didn’t respond to her commands – the music was hypnotizing. She had the feeling that the doll once was a real person and something vile, vicious, terrible happened to her. One of her arms was missing, her body looked like it had been ripped open and sewed back. She looked so sad and hurt, wearing a bloodstained tutu. The lullaby stopped. The door opened and someone got in.

And she knew, oh, she knew.

Something terrible was about to happen.

Locked inside a cage - breathing poison-filled air.

While my body was trapped, my mind was somewhere else wandering - through the wet streets, watching tree leaves fall and in their way down dancing, spiralling, following the wind's moves; breathing the fresh, cold air - feeling the wind touch my face like no one else ever did: softly, with all its essence.

I can't touch things without getting burned.

Sometimes I just don't know what to think. There's so many words inside my head but none of them makes sense. I try to put them together and formulate phrases but I don't know their meaning. I know their definition - not the meaning. Seems like I'm thinking about 100 different things, 100 different subjects at the same time - feels messy.

Not just the words, but everything in my life feels out of place. I wish I had a place to call home - then would be easier to put things there and start organising them. When things are in order they make more sense... or in this case, they would make sense at all. When everything is out of place certain things cannot be seen. Like a piece of puzzle is underneath the dirty clothes that are on your bed. The clothes over that piece are hiding it. Unfortunately that's just an example because I don't know what is over what, what is under what, what is being hidden. Today before school I couldn't find my earphones because they were under my poring hat. See?

I can't find friends, home, earphones or even hope. I won't find home. Then I wonder if it's possible to create home inside myself. The problem is that I need to look inside myself if I want to do so & everytime I look at the border of myself I sink. There's no anchor for me to hold on. My weight pulls me down.. I am downing. Maybe that's why I need to be weightless.. Maybe I'll float. But I have bones. Oh, the beloved bones of mine.. they weight & I will only be pure when I see them - maybe when I reach the bottom of the ocean, only with the weight of my bones... Well, the sand will cover them & bury me. I guess that in this moment I'll become the purest.

Dead, burried, pure & untouched.

Somehow, I think it's hard to write about this...

Because even after the shower, I can still feel  his body agaisnt mine.

His fingerprints are everywhere.

With time, they'll start to fade away.

And I think it's a good thing - he'll have an excuse to press his body agaisnt mine again.

To touch me, lay his head on my chest and only fall asleep only when the sun appears.

part of the sea

Wow. It's been a while...

Everything is so ugly that I keep trying to think of not thinking about it - and even though my medication is helping me I have no control of things I think. Those compulsive thoughts keep popping out of nowhere... and they are killing me.

Well, I've lost my best friend. I'm trying not to think about it, but it's hard... and it's getting harder. Not only because I don't have him anymore, but because I am utterly alone. It's been months since the last time I went out with someone, and it's been a week that I don't put my feet out of my house. I can't go to school, I can't work... No social interaction, nothing. I don't think I'll make through it - I mean, I've already done, right?

I wish I could be part of the sea - something whole... not a monster.

How do you give up? Is it done by deciding to give up and following through with it? Or is it by taking steps away from your true feelings? I wonder if someday I will forget the smell of his brown hair, the feeling of his cold ears, and the warmth from his back. I wonder if even this pain will all disappear and be forgotten. All of it… all of it… with nothing left behind. Almost like there was nothing there from the beginning.

"to absorb"

i am still waiting for an event even more catastrophical than my birth