JOURNAL: BETWEEN SOLITUDE AND MADNESS

I gave up, I was sure there was no one out there who wouldn’t find me too awkward, to weird and ever think I’m attractive. I gave up. I told people I had given up and I prayed and cried out to God and told Him that I was giving up on people and completely surrendering to Him in all things.

The persistent feeling of uselessness which often covers my nightly dreams, and the few confined memories I have of her face and the taste of her mouth, confuse me to the point where my sanity slowly slips away from me and there is nothing I can do to stop it.

It’s like a thousand little faeries looking back at me with their lovely little eyes, all trying so hard to help me not lose consciousness whenever I think of her, whenever I fall back into this world with my arms stretched open and that piercing empty look in my eyes.

Sitting by myself, in my world, praying to god to give me strength when I am weak, when I get lost in imagining what that kind of love means, thinking that the bestowed memories I have of her will be enough to help me transcend into another plane of existence, fooling myself into believing that they alone will help me be the man I wish to be.

Oh but it seems like a waste of time to me, losing the power of pretension brought upon by her ruthless words has left me dried and speechless. Maybe I was washed away from her body like a lip print on a shirt. Maybe it was that easy. Maybe these hands of mine that hold inside such stories of might and courage have no real warmth to give. Maybe I am not as infallible as I once thought.

But with words untainted one night she brought back to me the heart which had been taken from me an age ago, and softly whispered in my ears the names of those that once had loved me. And at that moment I knew the sound of absurdity which had clogged my mind had been defeated, that it would never come back to haunt me, that I would never ever be alone or cold or tired. That I would look into the sky with my dreamer’s eyes and that I would see those mythological sea giants gliding slowly across the sky with unrestricted passion, and I would marvel in their beauty and their grace which painted the firmament with soft and lively colors.

I was wrong.

And I believed in every word she said because there was no reason for me not to. Because I had no power over her, and in the end I never did. Because when you love the way I do, there are no real roads to follow, nor any threads of amber gray to weave.

And in that night I looked and saw and pondered the ways in which my heart had been taken from me, and I realized that they had only been moments and images and memories, that the truth which once concealed me, made my isolation seem slight and trivial.

But I need to feel this pain now, I need to wallow in my weakness because I refuse to kill the part of me which I love the most, the part of me that loves.

Man, it’s so easy to blur the line that exists between solitude and madness, isn’t it