Falling From The Sky

Levels

2011-04-16T22:35:00.000+02:00

There's a level to this. I don't like it.
When I go drunk everything comes back. I want to tell. I want to have it all out of me. Want you to know. Regardless the price I know I will have to pay. It's a burden impossible to bear, dragging me down, poisoning me, making me feel miserably, I'm ready to burst out in tears. Want to lean on your shoulder, cry, hear you say I'm all safe now.

I can't. I'm a big boy now. I can't.

A little more and I'm passed that stage. More drunk. Stay that way. Then I don't care any longer. It's all far away, the haze makes it all feel distant... like it doesn't concern me.

It's pathetic. In so many ways, no matter how you see it.

Och havet

2011-03-30T16:45:00.007+02:00

Mitt i natten, jag vaknar. Det är fortfarande mörkt, har ingen aning vad klockan är och det spelar nog egentligen ingen roll. Efter ett par sekunder känner jag din lukt. Öl. Vin. Du, under täcket. Nära mig, för nära. Lukt av grill och os. Kan inte somna om, kan inte. Jag verkligen försöker men det går inte. Ligger vaken och lyssnar på dina snarkningar i mörkret. Kan inte. Mår nästan illa. Känns som jag håller på att kvävas.

Försiktigt utan att väcka dig smyger jag upp, tar på mig mina kalsonger som du tog av tidigare under natten och rör mig försiktigt till båtens minimala pentry. Greppar efter kökskniven. En stadig förskärare. Väger tungt i min hand. Bladet glimmar förföriskt i det lilla ljus som trots allt finns. Jag håller den framför mig, måttar den mot dig på avstånd, mot din strupe. Det verkar så lätt, ett djupt snabbt snitt, ett hårt hugg, bryt av bladet i en sista kraftansträngning och det är över. Hostar blod, det rycker i musklerna en stund. En kamp du omöjligt kan vinna. Ditt liv är i mina händer nu, bokstavligen. Makten är nästan berusande och tanken på hur enkelt allt plötsligt verkar gör att jag känner mig lite bättre till mods.
Men jag gör det inte, kan inte. Det är inte jag. Dina snarkningar, de fortsätter. Du har ingen aning om detta, har inte märkt något.

Jag kan, men vill inte. Vill, men kan inte.

Jag vänder mig om och går sakta uppför den lilla trappan som leder från ruffen till sittbrunnen. Omärkligt som en smygande katt. Vill inte väcka dig. Lyckas. Tar filten som ligger där och virar den om mig, går försiktigt mot båtens för och kliver iland på den nakna klippan. Sommaren håller på ta slut, de mörka nätterna har återkommit. Endast en natthimmel fylld med oräkneliga stjärnor lyser upp min väg medan jag går de få stegen till klippans topp där jag kan blicka ut över den lilla öns andra sida. Och havet.
Jag sätter mig ner, det är kallt men jag tror inte att jag fryser. Sveper filten omkring mig och upptäcker att jag fortfarande håller i kniven i mitt grepp. Vrider den sakta, låter stjärnornas reflektion gnistra i det kalla bladet. Det är bara vi där. Jag kniven klipporna vågorna och havet. Tittar ut i mörkret och låter mig uppslukas av det som finns där ute, det jag inte kan se men känner att det ropar på mig. Så börjar gryningsljuset sakta komma. Först bara en strimma ljus i horisonten, sedan ger mörkret vika för himlen. För dagen. Livet. Döden.

Håller den kalla knivseggen mot min handled. Den kittlar, kallar på mig. Drar sakta, så sakta jag vågar utan att göra ett riktigt snitt. Rispar. Fram och tillbaka. Fram och tillbaka. Lyfter kniven och sätter dess spets mot mitt bröst istället, måttar in den mellan revbenen. Känner hjärtat slå innanför, hårdare och hårdare. Upphetsad. Rädd. För mig själv. För kniven. Så börjar jag trycka. Det krävs inte mycket. Knivens spets punkterar mitt skinn och jag ser en droppe blod tränga fram. En till. Fler. Jag följer med min blick hur de röda dropparna rinner ner längs mitt bröst tills de torkar stelnar och stannar. Så enkelt. Gör nästan inte ont alls. Känner mig trött och kall. Nöjd? Mår illa. Vad jag har måste vara mer än det här. Annars. Ja, vad annars? Var är poängen? Dagg i ljungen och mossan bredvid mig på klippan. En lätt dimma kommer från havet.

I det bleka ljuset går jag tillbaka, klättrar ombord, lägger tillbaka filten och kniven. Kryper ner under täcket bredvid dig. Vill inte men det finns ingen annan plats för mig, finns inget annat. Känner din värme. Kylande värme.
'Vad du är kall. Fryser du inte?'
Jag rycker till när du plötsligt säger något. Sömndruckna ögon tittar på mig, kisar. Din andedräkt luktar fortfarande sprit.
'Jo. Lite.'
Helvete. Stort misstag. Jag inser det samma sekund jag uttalar de orden.
'Jag ska värma dig.'
Du försvinner ner under täcket och jag känner hur dina händer tar av mig mina kalsonger och du börjar göra saker. För mig? För dig. Med mig. Jag lägger mina armar över huvudet, under min nacke, och blundar. Stänger av. Förbannar min kropp som sviker mig och får dig att tro jag vill det här och tycker om det. Förbannar den del av mig själv som tycker det är skönt. Somnar med ryggen vänd mot dej när du till slut är färdig. Din arm över mig. Varm. Kall. Snarkningar. Drömmarna och sömnen är min livbåt som tar mig härifrån.

Vaknar nästa morgon till lukten av frukost. Stekt bacon. Omelett. Kaffe. Varm choklad. Ljummen ost. Limpa. Mellanmjölk. Solsken. Måsar och trutar. Segel på tork. Du sitter i sittbrunnen och tittar ner på mig.
'Godmorgon sömntuta. Sovit gott?'
'...mmm...'
Du skrattar och pekar mot min tallrik som står färdig och väntar på mig så jag pallrar mig upp ur sängen efter att ha sträckt på mig en liten stund.

Jag har smutsiga fötter och ett litet sår på mitt bröst. Mina kalsonger ligger slängda på golvet.
Känner mig lite bättre. Hatar mig själv.

(från min dagbok)

Leech

2011-03-06T00:04:00.012+01:00

As long I'm slightly drunk it's okay. If I'm high it's even better. As long I'm in this with the prospect of going drunk or high as soon I'm paid and outahere; it'll do. I never arrive too intoxicated though, careful about not losing the control. I never have anything, no matter what I'm offered. Who knows what pills might have been put into that drink. I know where to go. Once a week, maybe twice. I switch between them, they're three and I trust none of them, but I guess I trust them as much I can. As much it's ever possible. They're not going to hurt me, stab me, kill me. That kind of trust. They only want 15 minutes... 30... and I hand myself over. Fair deal? I'm given their money so yeah, maybe it is.

I knock on the door and I'm quickly showed inside. I guess G don't want to display his young visitor to the entire neighbourhood. All the detached houses are yellow and to me they look the same. Two floors with a brick roof. The entrance is laid out in the middle of the house, almost with surgical precision, that gives the house perfectly balanced proportions. Not too much on either side - not too little. Halfway. A tiny garden, maybe an apple tree, maybe pear tree, a miniature lawn, a hedge. That's it. Not even a driveway or garage. The car is parked out on the street. Lots of watchful eyes behind the curtains I assume. Whispers. Rumours. I'm let in. The usual small talk. He's glad to see me. Yeah I'm sure you are. Whitewashing. Never anything serious. No thanks, I don't want anything to drink. And no ice cream either. What do I look like, a five year old? Upstairs, the bedroom. He's leading the way. Quite pointless isn't it, by now I know where to go. The blinds are already shut, he knew I was coming, he was counting on it. I bet he's been having a hardon for hours, thinking about his minutes of glory to come. And now, finally, showtime. He'll be jerking and dreaming about this for the rest of the week. I feel sick when I think about it. So I sit down on the bed, take my shirt off. He's watching, the clock is ticking, he want value for his money. Maybe there's something extra in it for me if I 'behave' and 'do good'. He's smiling, trying looking nice. Trying not show his sick content. Fails on that. I can't stand more of this, better get on with it. I lean back on his disgusting bed, shut my eyes. My arms above my head. No one is saying anything. There isn't anything to say I guess. Whatever happens, happens. I'm his now. For rent, and I'm hired. Taken. My jeans are slipped off and I can feel his hands on me. Don't feel this. It's not me. I'm not really here. I'm not watching. I don't care. I try not to care. He can't have me for that money, no one can. No one ever will. There's a distinct line there. It's not me. This is not me.

A lifetime later I'm out. Some notes in my pocket. Blood money? It depends on how you see it I guess. I bike to the tower blocks to buy my smoke. The guy selling this shit doesn't care. He's in for the cash. No questions asked. I like him. As I'm in the woods behind my house going high I think of G. In a way I feel sorry for him. For a second. He's such a loser. Crashed marriage, his kids hates him. So he says. I don't care, really. I'm a leech, feeding on him and his misery. As such I feel kind of proud... and a little ashamed, but I push that feeling aside. I also refuse to realize we exist in a symbiosis. He's using my misery, just like I'm using his.

If I see it that way things go way too complicated. So I don't.
After all, I'm just a leech.

Where did she go

2011-02-19T22:49:00.003+01:00

Been home for about half a year. Things weren't that bad. School, trying to catch up. Maybe life were back on track, more or less. Or maybe I did my best to hide the cracks. I don't know.
I got left home alone over the weekend. Somehow my parents had left me in the impression I were balanced and responsible enough to take care of myself. They didn't know how wrong they were.

The phone is ringing and I made the huge mistake of picking it up. In the other end, my old life. "Hey D! You're back!" So it goes on. Do I want to join them on a cool evening out? Thanks but no thanks. They don't listen. Insisting. Over and over. Eventually, at some point, I give up. I hear myself say yes. Brilliant, we'll come and pick you up!
Later I'm their car. Soon drunk. Beers and bottles passed around. Have no idea where we're going. That doesn't matter. My claustrophobic life is catching up on me, I knew it would happen. It was just a matter of time.

Fragment memories. At someone's house. Smoking shit. Want to drown myself. Want to forget everything. Hide. Hanging out with a girl in the basement, her hands all over me. Over her. Her tits felt alright. Warm. Soft. She's in my pants, inside my shirt. Then she realizes. Stops. Says 'You're not really here, are you?' The most honest and observant remark in a long time. We sat down, spoke about life. About hell. Shared a bottle, whatever bottle we could find. Got even drunker together. Cried together. We're both neck high in proper shit.

I wonder who she were, where she went.

Not for you

2011-02-11T20:27:00.000+01:00

It was a long time long ago
I fought stupidity, I fought myself
I tried to reach my dreams
The wind ruffling my hair, I knew where I was going
It's time to stop. Can you remember?

I saw the bus drive away, leaving me there
At the end of everything
Only a short walk, a walk to you
It was once in another life
Another reality, another you. Another me.

When I close my eyes I'm not really here
I can see the light of something else
Images in my head when you smile
I have found something beautiful
and you're not there

Can you hear me
This is not for you
This is for me
For the dream long lost
For my dream

This is not for you

...watch him as he goes

2011-02-01T18:40:00.000+01:00

My fingers smell of cigarettes. Dirt and clothes worn too many days. Desperation and longing for something else. Longing to escape the suffocation. A silent flickering TV and its chilling light. On the radio: starts with one by Shiny Toy Guns ca plane pour moi by Plastic Bertrand my hero by Foo Fighters something by Coldplay, I don't remember the title. I hate fucking fake Coldplay so I couldn't care less. Press them out of my mind. I'm looking out the window. This world doesn't belong to me. I don't belong to it. It's going dark I think, possibly this world is finally going under. I hope so. Fine by me. It would solve a lot, wouldn't it. The wolves are gathering. Vultures are circling. Looking at me. Maybe. So what?

Someone is preparing supper, I can sense the smell of cooking. Someone somewhere is about to sit down together with a mum and sister or brother or a dad and have a meal. A convo. How was your day dear, did you have fun in school. Talk about anything. So close yet so far away. I'm on another planet. Already drunk, 3 and a half beers. There so are many things I want to say, but when we finally sit across the table there's nothing but silence coming out of my mouth. From yours. I hate it, that our silence comes out too loud, or else we wouldn't have stopped. We don't talk. When did we stop? Mum, why?

I'm afraid that I'm closing in on the end of what once used to be me. I would like to elaborate right now, but I can't because I'm slightly drunk, I'm looking at a sky that isn't there, I'm sensing someone's cooking and I'm waiting for him to call so I can push that reject-button then turn off my phone and have him realize I'm out of his life.

Yesterday I thought I should stay home because I felt like seriously mentally run over but he talked me into it, went out, for a while it felt like it was only me him and nothing had ever changed. A car. It felt alright somehow. It matched. Somehow. That rain, it got cold. Alright. For a short while. Then it all came back. How you make me sick. Disaster? No, not really. Eye-opener.

Abuse me by Silver Chair. I'm tired of this all, will it ever end? "C'mon abuse me more I like it. Well I don't think you like me. Well I hate you as well". Spot on. It's mutual.

One day I will amaze you all. One way or another.

Temporarily. If lucky

2011-01-22T23:52:00.001+01:00

When I'm high I don't care
It sort of shields me,
or at least it numbs away whatever there is I don't want to see
Temporarily
If I'm lucky

Memories
Dreams
Voices
People

Shut up you fucking bitch. You like this, don't you? He's standing there with an euphoric smile on his face. The feeling of uneasiness is spreading throughout my entire body. shut down shut down shut down. The internal alarm is screaming. He doesn't care a second about me, it's not about me, not at all. It's about his sick fantasies, nothing else. Fuck I can't breathe, feel like shit. Does he care or even notice? Not for a moment. Staring at the cracks in the wall, counting the seconds till he's done. I'll see you soon, right? Guess once. You know it dick head. Fucking freak. You know it.

Blood money in my pockets, soon wasted.

When I'm high I don't care
It sort of shields me,
or at least it numbs away whatever there is I don't want to see

Temporarily

If I'm lucky

I'm afraid I'm terribly wrong

2011-01-12T11:44:00.001+01:00

A few nights ago I stumbled upon a local presumably gay website. No porn or so. This was a dead serious one, kids and teens telling about their lives, coming out-stories and difficulties trying to fit in. There were stories about abuse and bullying, one told a story about a close friend's suicide. So it went on. It was truly heartbreaking, I would lie if I said I weren't close to tears when I read those stories.

What really stuck a knife deep in my heart was the connection and recognition I felt. There has been more than 25 years, really haven't we progressed further?! I had a knife in my heart, twisting and turning. Stabbing.

After I had been raped at a party I later somehow ended up in a relation (to me it was a relation, nowadays I honestly force myself to see it differently) with someone older working at my school. When I too late realized how he had manipulated me, how little I actually meant to him, my world finally came crashing down. In a way I believe I gave up, the only way for me to feel alive was to hurt myself.
You can do that in many different ways. I developed a system in which I switched between three or four men to have sex with, and they paid me for it. Not much, but I never walked away empty-handed. I had enough to buy me hash to temporarily try outrun my situation. Of course it didn't work. I was confused in myself, what I were, who I were. I had no one to talk to, no one in my age that understood. Try outrun that...

We never really spoke, me and those men, it was mostly whitewashing and bad excuses. I went to bed and had them do whatever they wanted. To be seen I guess, to find out if I was still alive. To hurt and punish myself. Maybe that's why I did this, maybe that's why I never said no, never said stop. Only counted the seconds till it would stop. Till next time. In a way I abused myself. I blamed myself for this, definitely. When I got stuck in anger and hate, the one I hated was myself.

If I could hate myself I knew I had to be still alive

Even though this happened long ago, in a different life, I can still see the pattern. I can still sense whatever happened and whatever forces brought me there sometimes are trying to claw me down. I'm not afraid to hurt myself. When I hurt myself I know I'm alive. That pattern again. I've done a lot of stupid stuff in the escape from this desperation, now I know I can't. Can't escape. This is me.
A part of me.

If we don't dare to say no, don't dare to say I am, there will never be anyone to talk to. There will never be an end to this. We're stuck in this alienation, this behaviour. We're stuck together. You know, I have this naive belief it's easier to be gay bi transgender whatever nowadays, however I'm starting to become afraid I'm terribly wrong.

Much Love
Daniel

This is a cross post, sorry for that. It felt important.

Fredric

2010-11-23T17:44:00.000+01:00

I only wanted to be your friend. I wanted you to notice me, maybe then... somehow... That's why I tried to be near you without it being too obvious. Whenever I had the chance I secretly admired your brown eyes, your beautiful skin always looking a little more tan than me, and your hair brown like the sweetest chocolate. Just being close to you made me feel thrilled and excited. A crush, undoubtedly so.

When the teacher sometimes teamed us together as lab partners I were in heaven. Sitting beside you, working with you, your scent in my nose. You talked to me, maybe even happened to touch me; those short moments made my day. It made my week. It set my daydreams ablaze.
I guess you never knew that. I also don't believe you ever knew I started learn the guitar because of you. Staying in school after class, waiting for the music lessons to start, together with you. All wait was worth that. All practice and aching fingertips was worth that, too.

What I most admired was your grace, your absolute self-confidence. No one in school ever dared bully you, no one even considered it. The day you asked me if I wanted to hang with you after school I went speechless. You took me to see your dad at his office. It was high up in a tall building at the shopping centre. He gave us money to buy hotdogs and chips. Close to heaven, both me and that office.

I was so unprepared the day you finally spoke publicly to me in school. I had found you and your friends in the corridor at a break, looking cool as ever. I didn't do anything, I just listened to you. It made me feel I belonged. I was someone.

" - What the hell do you want from me??" you said, and you used the name everyone else did when they wanted to hurt me. Your friends laughed. You all laughed. At me.

I didn't say anything. I just wanted to sink to the ground in shame. My world shattered, my daydreams were gone in an instant. I felt dead inside.
How could I say I loved you. I had adored every step you took. The sight of you had made my legs go weak, it placed a smile of joy on my face. A smile I had to fight not to show. Of course I knew nothing would ever happen. Me and you, that would have been ridiculous. Like my daydreams, that dream was gone.

All I wanted was you to be my friend.
You never knew.

These things I see

2010-11-18T10:18:00.005+01:00

Deep down, when I'm submerged, everything is blue
Green? Dark
A lot goes through my mind
memories, images I can no longer explain
Was I holding on to life too hard
or was I too weak
Everything I ever had slowly floats away

Your hands are pushing me down, deeper and deeper
You let go of me long ago
why do I still feel like this?
Like you are drowning me
with your memories, your desires
These things I see
Everything I ever had slowly floats away

I was brought here to die, like everyone else
A limited time of suffering
then I'm free
I believe our presence means something
something big, something beautiful
These things I know
Everything I ever had slowly floats away

Talk About the Weather (3. Last part)

2010-10-20T14:50:00.008+02:00

The next couple of days I kept to myself. For once, in a long time, I stayed home day and night. Tried to sleep, sort things out, but the images in my head kept on haunting me. Whenever I closed my eyes I saw that kid with a part of his head missing. He looked at me with his eyes red of crying, trying to breathe, trying to say 'why'. If I looked the other way, he was there too. Everywhere. My friends tried to call me several times but I didn't answer. They text me, I didn't even open my inbox. I honestly hadn't seen them as monsters before but now I did. Possessed. Maybe vampires. Definitely out for blood. Am I like them?

How did things go wrong like this. How could I go so blind. Where did I lose it all.

Oh mommy, do you remember when I used to crawl up to your arms at night in the sofa? You embraced me, we didn't hide anything. You used to look in my face and say you loved me. I closed my eyes and that sweet scent of… you… sent me to sleep. Safe.
I wanted you to know what kind of person I have become. I wanted you to dry my tears, make those bad dreams go away. I know that is impossible but I wanted you to understand why. There's nothing left for me any longer, that's why I wanted you to know why I need to do what I'm about to do. But I realized whatever used to be between us had been forever lost.
I tried to explain. You only wanted to talk about the weather.

That's why I'm here, it's some weird completion of the circle I guess. Up on the black tin roof. It was here it once started. Up on the roof, above the 17th floor, beside the ventilators I gave my first head. He was fat and old, made me feel sick. At this very spot. I sit with my legs pulled up high up, my knees up my chest, my arms crossed over them, trying to make myself small and invisible to the world.
It all comes back to me. How I almost threw up, that horrible taste in my mouth, how he laughed when the money he threw at me blew off in the wind. Blew off over the edge, into the darkness of the night.
"Tough luck shithead".
Well you get used to it. Your emotions are slowly blunted, finally you don't care about anything any longer.
"Life sucks"
So true. I look at the stars. Is it the same stars like before? The sound of the city is like a melody in my ears. A little out of tune, the harmony is there though. And the constant humming noise from the fans and ventilators. I can smell food, someone's making supper. Life goes on, the unknowing live their lives like they always have.
Like they always will.

Another text on my mobile wakes me up. I don't open it. It's time.
I get up and walk to the edge of the roof. I hold my arms out like I'm about to fly off into the dark. I take a last look at the stars, then I close my eyes, lean forward and let go. Let go of myself, life, anything I know.
Just as I do I believe I can feel a slight push in my back. In my mind I turn around and see a boy with a part of his head missing, I think he is smiling at me. And a kid tied up, beaten, drugged, soon to be abused. In pink undies.

Talk About the Weather (2)

2010-10-19T17:03:00.008+02:00

Blood. I have my tongue out. I can feel the taste of blood on my lips. And dirt? Dirt, definitely. When I try to move the headache is... extreme. The nausea is all over me, the vomiting reflex hits me from like nowhere. Someone has a bag in front of my mouth and the flood of puke shoot straight out in it. My stomach cramps, trying to get rid of anything there is. And more. Fuck this hurts! When it finally stops I try to focus. Shit I can't! My vision is all over the place. It's nowhere. I can't focus at all!
I can barely spot the contour of someone dressed in white. And bright lights.

"Are you..." I were about to say God, but I stopped myself. I could hear how ridiculous it was. The total confusion were about to loosen its grip of me. Alright, I'm not dead. Things start to come back, slowly. The man in white fill in the missing pieces. I'm at hospital. Badly beaten up. Massive concussion. Been unconscious for about a day. Suddenly more people come in, I can recognize their voices. My mother. My dad. Things hasn't changed. They are nagging/crying/yelling just as always. "You're always in trouble!" "Oh my babyy!!"
Just what I want to hear. I throw up some more. The cramps are back.

Later my friends are there to see me. How on earth they had made themselves access to my room I will never know.
"Shit you look like fucking meatloaf, like you've been processed chewed at and spit out!"
"Thank you, that's very supportive of you. I appreciate it." I say. A huge laugh, a laugh that hurts in my stomach and face. What was left of it that is.
"What the fuck happened??"
Before I could answer I realize this wasn't a question, it was more of a statement. They already knew it all, I could see it in their faces. They knew and they had already responded to it.
"We had a chat with two of the kids", one of my friends said. "They were much apologetic, didn't really mean to cause you this harm you know. They promised not to do it again."
Without telling I knew what that meant. Revenge. They had smashed those kids to pieces, pushed them out in front of trains. Or thrown them of bridges. Knowing my friends; Probably all. Necessarily not in that order. I didn't ask. That was our understanding. Never ask for details. Everything is on need to know-basis. If we don't tell you, there's a reason for it. They keep on commenting on my appearance, throwing references to all sort of films. The Godfather. Bruce Lee. Bruce Willis.

In the end I had to ask.
"What happened to the kid?" They look at me with a great puzzlement. "...the one with pink undies..." I had to add. I don't know why he's been on my mind and in my dreams. Maybe I'm having bad conscience?
"Well, we let him go..." They're giggling like school girls.
"C'mon... be serious guys!"
"Honestly, we did... after someone..." one of the guys have a huge grin on his face. And he blushes! "...after someone ass-fucked that little creep!"
I raise my eyebrows, guessing this wasn't all.
"...and left a dildo stuck in him!" They all burst out into a huge inappropriate laugher. "We had him dressed and told him to go. And said 'Have a nice day' Have you ever seen anyone trying to walk with a dildo inside??" They're really fighting another attack of laugher now.
I had to shake my head. No I have never seen that.
"Whatabout anyone running then?! He was in fucking gallop!! It was hilarious!!!" There comes the laugher. People around us are looking.
"You're sick. Seriously, you are." There is nothing else I can say.

Days later I'm out from the hospital. My friends are there waiting to pick me up of course.
"Cool ride! Really sweet car" I say
"Yeah, we borrowed it for the occasion. Better come in style eh"
'Borrow'... don't ask. Where are we going? No idea, it doesn't matter really. I guess this trip has a purpose, whatever it might be. We are leaving the city, going south. About an hour later I suddenly recognize the road. Long ago, it feels like a million years ago, I went here with my family... when we still were a family. We went to see this huge wildlife park, then we passed here. I believe. Sort of. Crap we're in the middle of nowhere. What is this? We take a couple of exits, the road is going more and more narrow, I haven't seen a house in a long time. There are trees all over. Suddenly we stop. Definitely in the middle of nowhere, in the woods. I am a bit curious. What are we doing here? Should I be worried? If these weren't my friends; Definitely. Now? Neh. Either way, too late now.

"Come on, we have something for you"
We all get out of the car. Someone hauls out some serious shit and we share it. Marijuana. The joints are passed around. For quite some time we talk about anything really. Girls. Stupid acts. Silly acts. Weird acts. Guys with dildos, in gallop. We laugh. We're high.
"Look at this!" One of my friends open up the boot.
"Come see this shit"
WTF? In there, the third kid from the metro. I recognize him. Neatly wrapped up in duct tape. Some bruises and blisters, otherwise he looks alright. But his eyes, panic. All red. He's beyond crying. Has he been in there all the time, for hours? Geez. Damn he's just a scared kid, why did they do this?? He's dragged out, brutally. Placed in front of me a few meters away. The tape over his mouth is torn away. Ouch that hurt, I can see that.

"So? You have anything to say??" he's shouted at.
I can see he's trying to say something but it's impossible. He's scared shitless. Shaking. Hyperventilating. His breathing, so fast. His stomach, moving in and out like a dog. Looks like he's going to throw up or faint any second. White like a ghost. I almost feel sorry for him. He's not saying anything. He can't. He's terrified beyond belief. Fuck he's just a kid I think to myself.
"You don't eh"
Horror. Panic. In his eyes.

What happens next is in slow motion. Like taken from a bad film. Someone suddenly has a gun out, put it to his forehead and pull the trigger. The gunshot echoes between the trees. The kid is thrown backwards and fall, like a dropped sack of potatoes, next to a huge pine.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING???"
There's no answer. I stare at my friends. I yell at them. They're like changed. Into monsters. Beasts. They're out for blood, and now they have it. They're in ecstasy. This was the coolest, ever. The kid, lying on the sticks and moss, a part of his head is missing. I can see chucks of... him... stuck on the trees. I throw up, right there, on my shoes. They're crazy!! How the hell did I get here?
The rest is like in a mist, like far away. The body is put in a plastic bag, weight down and dumped in a nearby forest lake, the gun dismantled and thrown in so many different places, the car is set on fire at an old abandoned mine, then pushed into the water-filled pit. A short walk later someone else pick us up and drive us home. I throw up some more. My friends laugh. At me. Of excitement.
"You should have seen your face! Priceless!"

I bet it was.

Talk About the Weather (1)

2010-10-17T21:20:00.003+02:00

I watch him lying there. Tied up. Beaten. At first it was fun, we pumped that fucker full of shit. He screamed like a pig when he realized what was going on but that soon stopped. His eyes! His freaking eyes zoned out, he went tripping big times. Sky high. He was looking for place to stay for the night so it wasn't hard to trick him to come. He sure had more than he bargained for, didn't he?
I look at him. Dirty, eaten nails, skinny, bones sticking out everywhere, knees, ribs, shoulders. Long stripy blond hair. Then it hits me; He's a dog! He looks like a freaking mistreated dog!

This wasn't quite as fun as expected. Really, it wasn't. Someone punched his face hard, blood splatted at wall and I saw a tooth fly off as he spun around and hit the floor hard. A few kicks in his stomach, just because he screamed like a kid. We dragged him down the garage and tied him to the bed we placed there yesterday. I have to say he was something of a fighter. But weak, damn weak. You should have listened to your mommy. Be a good boy, finish your vegetables dear. That was before he run off I guess. Too late now. Like this, no match for the four of us. He was soon tied up, still bleeding from that cracked lip. Coughing blood. I think he did. Screamed.

There's no going back, we had to finish this. I walked up to him, grabbed his hair, had his head up and punched him hard with my other hand. Twice. Fuck that hurt my fist, look what you did?! Something cracked in him, maybe his jaw, I don't know. I don't care. He means nothing to me. The other guys laughed, grabbed his arm and pushed the needle in his vein. Nice flight kiddo! Say hi from us!! Seconds later the screaming stopped. His eyes, wide. Panic. Like saucers. Then it eased off. He was out there, flying. Brazil. Jupiter. Cool. Alright. What then?

We mugged him. Ripped his clothes off. Shit, he had absolutely nothing. Just some stupid change. No bus pass. No mobile. I bet someone else already had it. When we finally did this, why did we had to snatch someone completely broken. So we soon lost interest in it. In him. His clothes thrown in the corner, we left him there, tripping, tied up, in pink underwear. What a pathetic sight. Someone had a ripped DVD, some so unreal Asians fighting kicking always up again fighting kicking again. I yawned. This was nothing. I'm off guys. See ya.

I take a last look at him on my way out. Pink underwear, who the hell has pink underwear?? I wonder if he knew his night would end like this? Probably not. Dammit, his ribs are freaking bursting out his chest, what is this?? Has he ever been fed? Why the hell should I care. Tough life you shit. Well now you have a story to tell in school don't you? I'm off.

On the metro going home. What time is it? It doesn't matter. The guy in the ticket booth shouts something about calling the security at me when I pushed myself through. What else is new?? I'm on the lastish train home, sitting in the back of the car, at my usual seat. Here I can keep an eye on the crowd and make sure no one sneaks up on me from behind. I hate that. Of course it doesn't take long. Some screamy kids enter a few stops away. A stupid gang looking for trouble I guess. Can't recognise them. Jerks, definitely. Three. They look around and spot me, move closer, sit beside me now. Surrounded. People move away, scared of what's about to happen. You have some money I'm asked. It's the leader, it always is. Am I getting mugged?? What is this, do I look like a freaking preschooler? I tell him to piss off while he's able to and make sure he sees my fist. There's dry blood on it. The knuckles are still red of blood. He had his chance, and he lost it. Suddenly they're not that sure, they feel they're about to lose this one. Slowly they back away, acting so tough and cocky, they're off to harass someone else. So brave. Yeah like Christmas I think to myself.

Like I care.

I didn't see them when I got off the train at my stop. The bottle hit me in the back of my head. Hard. The kicks when I was down, like a sequence. Like mass destruction. Black spots in my vision. It's weird, I think of my mother. And on a tied beaten kid in pink undies.
Then it all goes black.

This is not

2010-10-08T16:59:00.001+02:00

Let's wish this is not. Let's pretend we're someone else, somewhere else. In a different world.

You look at me, I look at you. A smile and an eye we both know what it means 'Are you...?' 'Yes, whatabout you?' Let's go somewhere else where we're not known. Let's leave and be ourselves for a moment. We escape into space and enter that little restaurant at the end of the world. A table for two, please. We sit down and share a bottle of red. Your words, you are telling me about your day, it's like the sweetest melody in my ears. Please don't stop, please continue forever. I'm drowning in you; your eyes your voice your hair, you. I'm drowning. And it's a pleasant drowning. We stay as long as we please. No need to hide. No need to hide from their whispers and pointed fingers behind our backs. What will they say? Here, in our world, that doesn't matter. Nothing does. It's only you and me and our love. Really, what else do we need. So, my place or yours? Let's head for that imaginary beach! We sit down in the sand to watch the night sky and listen to the sea. Oh a shooting star! Make a wish, quick! you say. I wish this moment is forever, I think to myself. Don't say it, if you do it won't come true. Did you make it, you ask. I nod and smile. We say nothing more. There is nothing more to say. The night and those ocean clouds surround us.

You and me. Now and forever.

You lean against me in my arms. Fully relaxed and your face looks... happy? Almost. I caress your hair. Slowly, gently. Blood is pouring from your wrists with its veins cut open forming a pool. The pool of blood we are sitting in. Soon my love, soon you are free. We are back and the real world has caught up on us. The delusion is over. We will never be able to be together in this existence so let's hope for something better. Let's wish for something better to come elsewhere. Goodbye my lover. Now it's my turn.

See you soon.

Kill me

2010-09-21T18:14:00.016+02:00

I'm not in a hurry. In fact I'm doing my best to stall this. Unenthusiastic almost reluctant I slowly close in to your place. Your house is next to my school, it's one of the tower blocks. To me this is not a building, it's a magnet of horror. It's impossible to get away from, it doesn't matter how much my mind scream and resist, I'm slowly pulled in towards this hell. That's the worse part, can't avoid coming here. By now I know what's expected from me, I know how much it hurts inside and I can already start feel the numbing panic ache in my belly like cancer. I'm ready for it. But I'm afraid I like the way it hurts. I'm afraid I like the way I punish myself, the way I inflict this pain to myself. As long I feel I know I'm still alive. I hurt myself to know I'm alive. That's why I keep coming back. The realization of how it all stick together make my life appear so pathetic. And lost.

I'm at your door. Too fast. Too soon. I watch my hand push the bell button, my ears listen for the sounds of you opening the door. I spot the change of lightning, your shadow, you're watching me through the door eye. Please don't open, I don't care why. Say you're sick. Busy. Please don't.

Of course you open, why shouldn't you? You smile at me, that smile I hate so much. I've seen it before, I know where it's taking me. "Come in, you want to have some fun? I'm glad to see you." I'm not. And no I don't want any cookies. No lemonade either thank you. I so don't trust you, anything could have be mixed into that glass. An eternity of your creepy small talk later we're eventually down to business. I recognize the look you're giving me, I know what it means. Undress. Slowly. Now. You like this, you're watching in content. If I want to try something new? Don't think so but how can I say no, you're not listening anyway. Can't say anything. So you go ahead. You lead, I follow. This is what I hate, your hands on me, doing your stuff. So I'm not here any longer.

My mind leave that body and drift away in space, I'm careful not to look down and spot what's going on, I don't want to see this. I don't. And I can't. I'm a zillion miles away, nothing can touch me here. You can't. No one can. A beach, palm trees, music, I'm alone with myself, anyone ever hurt me has been punished and begged for forgiveness. A forgiveness I couldn't offer, I only had cruel revenge waiting for you all. I'm free and everything is the way I want it to be. Nothing has happened, I'm forever untouchable.

The indescribable burning tingling sensation is taking over my body, and my mind is brutally forced back. Shot down from space and thrown back in the jail I just escaped. My body jerks. "You liked this didn't you, you little slut?" I hate you. I hate when you make it look like I'm enjoying it, you honestly believe I like this don't you? I want you to hurt me, I want to experience the killing pain. I need to know I'm alive. Now I don't. It's not suppose to be like this. Confused. Maybe I just died, maybe you just did me the favour and killed me? I'm not that lucky, I know that.

Then, in the middle your stinky apartment with crap lying all over, on your awful bed almost making me throw up by its smell, I get it. I suddenly realize the point in it all.

Dying is a process.

Sometimes it hurts, sometimes it feels good. Everything is a manifestation for death, everything is leading towards the same inevitable end.

You dry the worse mess off me and I feel horrible, dirty beyond any description possible. Alive. But I don't cry, my tears went dry long ago. Tears has no purpose in this, nothing has I guess. As I put my clothes back on you take some notes from your wallet and pass them to me. I quickly snatch them, like they're poisoned, and stuff them down my pockets. When I'm out of here I want to get high, leave this world for a moment. "See you later." I know that was a question but I let it slip by unanswered. We both know. I'm making the same mistakes over and over. And you, you will continue to kill me.

The shadow-people

2010-08-08T09:00:00.003+02:00

I don't longer see them, the shadow-people that follows me in the corner of my eyes. They've been there many times, and like a slap in my face I'm suddenly aware someone is watching me. From a distance, behind me. You know, they appear like a dark shadow, like a shy interested follower, but the only thing I ever see when I turn my head to try focus in that direction is them quickly disappearing, leaving nothing behind. The only thing left are the doubts this was for real. It probably wasn't. Most likely only a sick and weird figment of my imagination.

If it wasn't for that extreme uncomfortable feeling, the goose bumps and the vacuum of fear in my icy spine I would shake that vision off me and dismiss it all. I can't. It scares the hell out of me and whatever - whoever - I had a glimpse of are stuck in my mind for days. I refuse to switch off the lights. Sleep in darkness? I'd rather die of starvation. I'm scared. Really scared.

I wonder why I sometimes see them so much often. Are the shadow-people getting slower? Am I going faster and better in this? Or are they trying to contact me, trying to tell me something? Trying to warn me for something bad about to happen, like some sick omen? Maybe they are here to take me away somewhere. Snatch me. I'm done, ready to be harvested, I have had my share of life, it's time to go. Maybe these are my monsters. My mind, my entire body, the goose bumps, tells me whatever reason the shadow-people are here for, it can't be good. This is for real and it can't be a good.

So why don't I see them any longer. They don't want to hurt me any longer. Right? Please tell me they won't.
Or maybe it's too late. Maybe I already have been collected. Processed. Chewed on and spit out.

Maybe this is this hell? That would explain things.

The impact of nothing

2010-07-20T20:54:00.000+02:00

Did you know what was like?
No mass, still the weight to carry was massive.
Like drowning. You float, yet you sink as deep you can go.
An overwhelming darkness cover whatever there is.
But there is nothing to cover, nothing than guilt and shame.

So much.
There were so much I wanted to say.
There were so much I wanted to say to you.
I wanted to grab you, shake you, make you notice.
I'm here. I'm alive.
Help me.
Instead, nothing. I couldn't.
I felt the headache sneak up on me. No, please not now!
Like fog rolling in on a beautiful day, ruining everything.

I threw myself backwards, inwards, towards myself.
Hitting myself hard, against myself. Eyes closed.
A scream. A thud. A crunching horrible sound. Short intense pain.
All silence. It's over.

You're safe now. I allow the warmth to embrace me. A rocking feeling. The scent of my mother. Her arms around me, caressing my hair. Shh...everything bad has been taken away. Sleep, honey. I hear voices whispering, familiar voices. Now everything will be alright. Or is it just the darkness surrounding me?

I would give anything for one more chance, but it's no point asking I guess.
There's nothing left to say.

I Still Seek My Answer

2010-07-03T22:20:00.002+02:00

I walk down the city centre, they're all there. With eerie distant eyes. If you look carefully you can see there's no reflection in these eyes. No focus. No movement. Zoned out. The spark of life is lost. They have given in, realizing there's no point. The sun is shining, we should be happy, be in love. There's no point. We have given up.

Cheap red wine. Stolen beer. Glue. Bags of spay paint. Weed. Pot. Trips. Snow. Exclusive cognac. Joints and Rocks.

The drugs vary, just as the excuses. It doesn't matter. The result is the same. The reason is the same. This is the shape of things to come. Lifeless zombies in the street. To cope we have to. Become zombies.

I try to fight this, I still have my mission to accomplish. I still seek my answer.

How much did you get? How much was I worth?

Love.Hate.
You.Sold.Me.
It.Is.So.Sick.I.Can't.Stand.It.

As soon I know I will give in.

Greenbluegrey eyes. Distant and zoned out.
If you ever see them you know.
That's me. I found my answer.

The Fly

2010-06-21T16:17:00.002+02:00

' - You suck! Your entire life sucks!!'

You looked at me with disgust and hatred in your eyes as those words were spat out straight in my face.

It made me excited, almost ecstatic. I had started to suspect I was trapped in between somehow. Not alive. Not dead. Doesn't really exist. Hasn't been fully wiped out. Life is death. Death is life. Simply caught in between, stuck in some surreal dimension of a sick oblivionic cold non-existing fucked-up version of life. Hell and pain and suffering and affliction incarnated into human flesh. Maybe it's God's contribution to all tormentors out there. 'Hey, look at me. Watch and learn!' Pulling the wings and legs off a fly, a fly that doesn't really exist. Wings and legs that doesn't really exist either. Watch that non-existing fly trying to fly off, escape, run, looking for a way out. It can't. There is none. No more. Forever trapped and stuck. Not alive. Not dead. Stuck in between. My so called existence.

I didn't know I had a life. Now I know I have. Thanks to you.
I have a life to waste!

Fucking great isn't it?

Nothing

2010-06-05T18:48:00.000+02:00

I hate the way you looked at me, like you understood,
like you felt for me.
Like you cared.

I hate the way you spoke to me, like you understood,
like you felt for me.
Like you cared. At all.

I hate the way you touched me, your greedy exploiting hands on me.
You never understood.
You never cared.

You never.
Anything.
Ever.

I
was
nothing
to you

A meal with William; I know your secret

2010-05-26T20:05:00.004+02:00

I always come close to panic whenever the police come in to the restaurant. Are they here to pick me up, or are they here only to observe and gather more information about me? They must know, that's why they are here. It has to be. My heart always stop a second when they come in to the restaurant and sit down. It's like that every time. Not to look suspicious I must fight my fear and instinct reaction to run like hell. Instead I walk up to them, like I do to anyone else.

' - Can I take your orders? We have excellent fish today.', and I do my best to look that casually polite but in fact totally uninterested, just as you expect a waiter to do at this kind of place.

Policemen never order fish, I only ask to tease them. Pasta, lasagne or steak, that's police food. By now I know. I bet they consider fish is for fags, just like salad obviously is. I'm about to try guess their orders while I await this silence to end.

Shit, this doesn't feel good.

' - Martin Hamilton?' One of the officers flashes his ID card.

Damn. Too late to run now.

' - That's me. What can I do for you gentlemen?' I do my very best to act genuinely surprised over their visit. I know they are analysing my every move so I got to play my cards right now.

' - Somehow I believe you know what this visit is about.'

moments of silence

' - It's about those speeding tickets right? I'm so sorry. I was about to pay them. Seriously.'

' - Can you come with us, we need to have a word with you in private.'

I put on my 'are you serious??'-look on my face, then I agree to join them. A talk with the manager later we are heading towards their car. As we do one of the officers lean close to me and whisper

' - I know your secret...'

I stop and do my best to act surprised like I don't know what he is talking about. Surprised, sure I am. No one knows my secret, I'm absolutely convinced no one does.

In my mind I'm back at my old house, I'm thirteen, hiding in my closet at night, trying to pretend nothing of this is for real. I don't want my dad to find me ever again. I know the closet won't help, but this isn't happening for real - remember? Whenever he shows up at night, drunk, ready to show his love and affection, I'm ready to die. To get away from it all, I am prepared. But he is my dad, he should be the one I should unconditionally trust, right... so I can't die. I'm not allowed to die. That'd be too easy. No escape, there's no escape. I let him come and whatever happens, happens. Later he is so regretful. He cry, ask for my forgiveness. I don't respond, there is nothing I can say. When you are dead inside you can't talk. Then he leaves me there, he head back downstairs and finish yet another bottle before he finally pass out.

I'm in my closet, hiding, listening to dad drinking watching TV, waiting for him to show up. I know he will. Five minutes, fifteen, maybe a lifetime later he does. My hiding means nothing, there is nothing I can do or say to stop him. He is drunk out of his mind. It all suddenly became clear to me. This will never stop. The end of this is all up to me. After dad finally left me I was awake in my bed, listened to his sounds, waited for my moment. Eventually it came. I went to his room, like expected he had passed out beyond drunk in his bed. I carefully moved the electric heater closer the window and curtain to have it look like an accident, and then I set fire to the curtain using my lighter. When I left the room I blocked the door with a chair to stop dad from ever reach me again. I stayed outside as long as possible, waited as long as possible. When the smoke got really thick I put the chair back on its place and left the house to burn. Left my dad to burn. In hell I hope.

What a tragedy, everyone said. The police investigation had found the electric heater and concluded it had accidentally set the room on fire. It was a tragedy but I'm the only one knowing its secret. I'm the one ending this true tragedy. No, he doesn't know a shit. He's just bluffing. Checking my reaction.

A little later I'm back at the restaurant, waiting customers. We have excellent fish today, Sir. As expected the questions was about one of the missing rent-boys. Obviously one of them had been a flipped out son to someone important. Important enough to put pressure on the police to do some half-lame investigation of his disappearance. My car had been spotted. I knew it would happen sooner or later and I had prepared for it. Things went exactly as planned, I answered and steered away from their questions without raising new ones. I'm off the hook. Not on their list. I think so anyway.

The next young man got picked up elsewhere. A few calls later, a quick stop, and he was in my car. Another William. Maybe a Tommy? No, that dirty blond hair doesn't make him a Tommy. A William it is. Now he's sound asleep in my sleeping bag and we are back in the barn. It only took a few drops of chloral hydrate in his drink to make him pass out, it was so clean and simple. I wonder what his story was... I forgot to ask. Abused, used, bullied, drugs, thrown out. Pretty much like the others I guess. Don't worry, I'll save you. So I sneak down beside him in the sleeping bag. His warmth, the scent of his hair; it's overwhelming. Maybe I should let him stay, let him go, let him live? Maybe I shouldn't save him from the vultures? Would that be a good or bad thing to do? Would that save or condemn him?

Inside that sleeping sweet head of his, I wonder if he knows I'm right now about to determine his future? Judging from that innocent face, I doubt it. I run my fingers through that hair of his, so soft.

Then I decide.

A meal with William

2010-05-18T16:44:00.018+02:00

" - Look what you did! I told you to stop!!"

I'm yelling at the kid lying motionless on the floor. Blood is flooding from a wound on his head, just beside his right ear.

I'm still holding the baseball bat in attack position, my knuckles are going white and I'm ready to strike him again if he tries to lash out at me once more. My heart is rushing and the adrenalin has kicked in. I'm shaking really bad.
Nothing happens. He is still on the ground, hasn't moved at all since he fell in that weird position. I'm starting to relax a little and I lower the bat. This day started so brilliant, now this.

It rained all day, maybe it was thunder in the air as well. The atmosphere got that thick, like you could almost grab and eat it. High dark clouds loomed in the sky and blocked the sun. I don't know if I hate or love this weather, I can't decide which. It gives me a constant nagging headache, but it also charges me. My mind, maybe fuelled by this headache, sets off all my trapped ideas and images spinning around and around like a vortex. Days like these I have a tornado in my head. Days like these I'm so damn horny. When I feel like this it is almost hard to breathe, I really have to struggle to get enough air. Not that the air isn't there, it's just that I'm full. Full of those ideas and images, I can hardly make any space for the air I need.

The car. My car is the only place where it all slows down. I get inside, turn the motor on and set the climate control on 18 degrees Celsius. As the cold air starts to rush in, my mind slows down. The tornado is slowly beginning to fade away, I can breathe again. When I come back to my senses I realize I have been driving and I'm at the railway station. I know what this means, I'm going to pick up a rent-boy. I park the car and walk out the platforms, this is where they hang around, taking shelter from the rain. There are a lot of people here, when you look upon this place it almost seem to be an anthill. There's a pattern in this apparent chaos. People come, they wait, they leave. After a few trains has come and left it's easy to notice who's waiting for a train, and who's waiting for something completely different. I just wait and watch, then I soon know whom to approach.

With the prospect of place to stay for the night, a free meal and a quick fix it wasn't too hard to have this kid to join me. I guess he's a dropout, runaway or just looking for an adventure. Doesn't matter really. I don't care, he serves my purpose. That's enough for me. I didn't ask for his name either, I stopped doing it long ago. I assume they never gave me their proper names anyway, the names they came up with certainly not sounded alright and almost ruined my moment. That's why I invent my own names on these kids. This is a William, or possibly an Andrew. Definitely not a Michael or Shane, and never ever a Carl. When I think of it, this skinny kid, if correctly fed and given some sunlight and a good haircut; definitely a William.

Me and William drew to this abandoned small farm in the woods. I guess generations has broken their backs here, trying to make a living from the poor soil, trying to save the crops from rain and freezing weather. Starving kids, years of bad harvest, maybe the horse died. Now nature is reclaiming it all. Weed and trees are taking over the small field, the backyard garden has gone wild and whatever was growing there stopped give fruits long ago. The roof of the small house has caved in, only the barn is still intact.

The barn, that's where we are, me and William. We had chicken and roast beef, William wolfed it like he hadn't seen a meal in days. Then I had the drugs out. I had some serious smoke and William injected. I saw his eyes change, I've seen this before. It's creepy. And damn sexy. His mind was miles away and he danced for me, stripped. When he was down to his underwear, he suddenly flipped. Never seen anything like it man! He got crazy, there were arms fighting all over, his eyes rolled, his legs was kicking and from his mouth came the weirdest words there is! Maybe he was the Devil, I don't know. He seriously scared me! I backed off. I told him to stop. I shouted. Yelled. He didn't stop, just kept on. I had to make him stop, I HAD to. What else was there for me to do??
That's when I grabbed the bat I had kept hidden and swung it. With a thump the bat hit his head hard and William went straight to the floor. He didn't scream or tried to duck, he just took the blow and down he went. Then he finally stopped. Maybe he WAS the Devil? Or when I think of it, maybe he was having some kind of seizure?? Whatever. Here we are.

I'm watching William. Such a fragile creature. So skinny and pale. I can see every bone in his body through the skin... did he ever eat properly? Sixteen, maybe seventeen. Blue eyes. His hair, black, but probably only coloured black, long and stripy. The blood doesn't make it less stripy. A few pubes are visible but I resist the temptation of checking inside his underwear. This totally fucked up, I don't deserve that treat. Cute kid, damn fragile.

I put him in a black plastic bag and I throw him up on my shoulder. My God, he doesn't weigh much! Just a short walk through the dark woods there is a small lake. I've done this walk so many times before I can find my way blindfolded, or like now; at night. Using someone's badly tied boat I slowly submerge the bag and with the help of a couple of rocks it descend down below without a sound or splash.
A few bubbles. Bye William.
Like a sign from above I can hear distant thunder. I head back to the barn, slip down in my sleeping bag and I listen to the rain falling on the tile roof, only interrupted by the sound of thunder moving closer.

They're not making kids like they used to, I think before I fall asleep.

At night

2010-05-13T08:50:00.001+02:00

Have you ever asked yourself why you as kid were afraid of the dark? Why did you ask your dad to check for monsters under the bed and in the closet? Kids still has their minds open, they can sense what goes on at night - but when we grow up we lose that ability. We choose to forget and ignore. Deny. Because we know the monsters exists.

Have you ever asked yourself why the baby unexplainable starts to scream in the middle of the night? The baby can see the monsters, their shapes contours and ugly faces. The baby can sense the presence of monsters and the flaming heat from their evilness just makes it unbearable.

" - it was only a bad dream..."

We comfort the terrified child. Despite the fear in its eyes we say everything is alright. It was only a bad dream, it's gone now. Then we leave the scared child alone in the darkness. Alone with the monsters waiting in the shadows.

When we grow up we cannot see the monsters anymore. Our mind is occupied by bills, careers and life in general, and we close that side of us. We shut that door. However we are far from safe.
The monsters come out at night from the shadows and invade our bodies. They go inside our souls and mess with our minds. The monsters fuck violently within us and the leave behind a seed of evil ideas, little voices nagging louder and louder till we one day finally break.

Have you ever watched someone sleep beside you? Watch carefully. You will see small faces, movements, signs of something going on. Is it only a dream, or maybe it is something else? Maybe the monsters are inside, whispering "go get the knife. slit his throat. finish him."

Have you ever woke up in the morning with this absolute feeling of confusion? What's for real and not. Woke up feeling exhausted. Or still extremely tired despite hours of sleep. Ever wondered why? Think you should because the monsters exists.

We cannot do anything to prevent this, humans and monsters coexist. Throughout history this has always been, and it always will be. We can fight back, or we can obey the voices. That's what I do. That's why I'm locked up. The nurses are monsters, too. They strap me down and drug me to sleep... because they want the monsters to have their orgy inside me at night and feed on my fear, they want the monsters to go stronger and stronger.

All I want to do is follow their instructions.
Please, can I have my gun?

This is my boy, you said

2010-05-10T15:27:00.002+02:00

You referred to me as ‘your boy’. I guess in any other cases I would feel honoured, now it only makes me scared as hell as I start to realize what is going on. You never told me where we were going, you only instructed me to join you in your car. After our last meeting I should have known. I should have seen the signs. You aren’t to be trusted. Still I come back for more. What’s in my mind doing this, I just can’t understand it. Probably nothing. I’m so stupid. Now I will pay the price for my stupidity. So here we are. You pushed the bell button and the door opened. I had been in this neighbourhood before, in fact I had biked outside this house many times. The wild backyard garden, I had no clue what it was hiding. I didn’t know it was hiding anything. Now I know.

This is my boy, you said.

Something icy went through my spine. I should have made a run for it. I should have screamed. Punched your face. I didn’t. I did nothing. I froze. I let myself be lead through the door. No air, the place had no air. That was my first impression. No light. My second. The blinds and curtains were all closed. I wonder what secret they were hiding. We walked upstairs. Slowly my eyes started to get used to this absence of daylight and I could spot some furniture. Nothing in particular. Could have been anyone’s home. A bedroom to the right. I’m lead into a bedroom. He sits down in the bed. And you place me in front of him.

Let me see you, he said.

A smile. I guess if I met that smile in the street, in the supermarket, in the metro, I would have considered it nice. A word coming from that smiling face, I would have answered without any doubt. Telling what time it was or give instructions about the way. Maybe even say my name. Now it’s false and scary. The smile of a pervo is grinning at me. Checking me out in the little light there is. This is the meat market, lambs for slaughter to sale. And I’m the only lamb there is. Of course I’m to his liking. What isn’t? Laughter. You and him laugh at the situation. You’re excited. I’m… nothing. I see where this is leading and I shut down.

You know what it feels like when you shut down? Weightless. The sense of skipping gravity comes all over you. Floating out in space, nothing matters any longer. It’s only me and my thoughts in some divine arrangement I cannot understand. I don’t need to. There’s nothing in it for me to understand. I know I have to escape my body, it’s that simple. I know what I’m supposed to do, I surrender my body, I leave my body for awhile. I shut down. From my place above I see him suck and wank me. I see myself lying in the bed and I seem to like it, that’s the part that sickens me. I seem to like it, he must believe I do. I hate this. Hate. Hate. Hate. I hate this so bad it makes me sick.

Done.

My body moves over to a cane chair, the same chair in which you just sat while you watched the show. The chair is still warm. No, not warm; it’s full of your shadow. And it’s not warm, the imprints of you in that chair stinks. And that’s where I am. Can my life possibly sink deeper? Slowly I descend back into my body, take it back in control. In possession. I put my underwear back on, lean back in my stinking chair and watch you two in bed. Celebrating, I understand you do. Your mutual ownership of me, that must be celebrated. What better way than doing this in front of the eyes of ‘your boy’ can there be? An exclusive meal. I’m watching this grotesque banquet and I have been the main course, I recognize that. I decide to deny you this feast on my behalf. I close my eyes and think of ways to kill you instead. There are so many ways, anything is possible. In my mind I enjoy the blood flooding, it almost drown all sounds coming from your disgusting meal.

I say nothing in the car going back. The cash in my pocket burns like hell. Blood money, this is sour bitter blood money I’m given. Nothing, nothing ever can make me feel happy about the cash I just made. You drop me off at my bike and you say ‘See you later’. I don’t answer. See you later, where do you think? In hell.

At home I shower for hours. I really try to get rid of that feeling of hands all over my body. I have to. I can’t. I stays with me no matter how hard I scrub.

‘Your boy’. That expression made me lose all faith all there ever is. You had me lose my faith in everything there ever will be.

This piece is also published on sometimes they don't come back

When Rolf is out

2010-04-24T22:42:00.004+02:00

I spend a lot of time trying to come up with the perfect crime. How to kill someone and get away with it. I wonder if someone already has committed that crime of perfection? Probably. But how would anyone know? If it is perfect, I mean.
I consider all the details. All the how's and if's. All unknown factors must be eliminated. The perfect crime would be to hide the true purpose, make it look like something else. An accident, a robbery gone horribly wrong. Anything.

" - Your destructive daydreams, we have to talk about them."

I say nothing.

" - You told me about them last time. You told me how the idea of dying had you absorbed. You want to talk about it?"

My shrink keep pulling the strings. Her bait is out, she's just waiting for the catch to bite, then she starts to reel in. She's in for the kill.

I say nothing. She hasn't got a clue how right she is. I've been planning to finish her, too. She's got an ugly looking stupid little white dog, every night when she comes home she takes it for a walk. I've been observing her for a log time, by now I know her routines. I'm going to do her on that walk. It will look like she tried to rescue that fucking dog from the railway tracks but she got hit by the train herself. Oh how tragic, that's what everyone will say. Me too, of course I will show my condolences. Maybe even drop a tear. For my own geniusness. It's so beautiful. Almost grandiose.

" - What do you want me to say?" I look at her and smile. "That was only some crazy idea I had last week, now it's all gone. I saw a film and it was really vivid."

" - A film? Are you sure? To me you appeared to be quite convinced in your arguments."

I only smile at her. I gently shake my head and smile. The rest of the session is stalled, I don't want her to dig too deep, uncover anything making her suspicious. She tries to figure this out, I realize that. She does her best to snare me with tricky questions but I carefully and smoothly avoid them all. My ship hasn't run aground, we're still at sea. The sails are up and I'm at the helm. The wind is good, we're picking up speed, we're doing all good. Aye captain.

Eventually our 45 minutes are up. Oh time do fly when we're having fun, doesn't it? We set a new appointment, say goodbye and I head for my car having that euphoric feeling of having defeated her. This was the battle of the brains and I came out as the champ. I really don't need this crap, I only see her for the challenge. I love to see the fire of interest in her eyes come alive... and then slowly pull all her hopes away. I'm so good at this. This torture, this torment. I can't stop it, it makes me excited, makes me have a boner. I know how God feels, I do! I bet he sits in a car and jerks off now and then, he too.
I leave the parking lot still smiling, turn right and take my normal route through the local streets. I stop at a few red lights and I look at the kids biking and mums walking their prams with babies screaming. I'm not going to run over them with my car, not today. That's too obvious. Still I feel my foot on the accelerator and my hands on the steering wheel talk to me. Kill them, finish them. Do it now! But it's too obvious. I fight back and ignore.

I'm soon up on the motorway leading me home. I've done this drive so many times before, by now I hardly even think of it. My mind is far away, thinking of a million other things. That's why I'm surprised when I suddenly have it. The perfect crime, I have it! So simple, so brilliant!!

I pick up speed and take off my seatbelt.

This is brilliant, I think as I steer towards the concrete bridge piers.

Fragments of passion (3)

2010-04-21T20:16:00.001+02:00

Just outside the suburbia shopping centre is the abandoned park. Not really abandoned, everyone living in the area knows what goes on in there and avoids that place. That abandoned. The drug addicts, the alcoholics and the gluekids, they've all claimed each part of the park and uses it in some twisted coexistence that works only as long everyone involved looks the other way.
For some reason no one understands the gluekids has the flatrocks with the junipers, the one facing the local street. There are bushes and trees perfectly blocking the view, in fact you could drive on that street and actually consider the park as beautiful and eye-catching. If you don't know its secret that'll say.
As the night falls its inhabitants slowly drops off. The ones having a home and a mum and dad waiting for them are the first to go. Then it's the ones having a family they're unwilling to go to. Still they do, knowing it at least is a meal and a place to stay for the night. Left is the unwanted kids. Nowhere to go, no one to go to. The ones without hope. The night means a car to sleep in, an unlocked basement, anything really.

The man had been watching David for quite some time. As the others faded away David was the one staying. By the look of his clothes and dirty face that wasn't so unexpected, anyone looking like this can't have a proper home to go to. That's impossible. Finally, when there's no one else around the man walks up to him. It takes a few seconds for David to focus, the haze from the glue is still making the world so damn unclear.

The man says something. In David's ears it sound weird, distant, he hardly bother to listen. And it doesn't matter what the man says really, David realizes this is his meal ticket for the night. What else matters? In fact, he consider himself lucky. If he manage to play his cards right he will also have a decent sleep, and maybe even breakfast. Who knows, maybe he can nick something on his way out, something worth trade for a quick fix later on.
A few deep mouthfuls of from the plastic bag of glue later David is ready to go and joins the man to his car, conveniently parked out of sight down the street. From the backseat the ride in the dark almost feels like a dream. Hazy blue eyes looks out into nothingness, whatever is out there passes by like wrapped up in a mist. It passes by, impossible to understand. You can watch it this scene the entire night, the only thing that really matters is here and now anyway.

The car drives up to the boat club, makes a short stop as the man unlocks the gate and then it drives inside. The huge field covered with gravel is packed with boats on stands waiting for the season to start. To David all boats looks huge like this, almost viewed from below, taken out of their true element. It almost looks like a cemetery, gravestones standing in line. Maybe it's only the glue doing this. David grabs his bag and sticks his nose and mouth into it once more.

The car isn't moving any longer, they've stopped beside a boat. The man opens the door and David gets out of the car and follows the man up a latter and into a wooden boat, like all other boats around it's on stands, covered with a scaffold.

" - Sit there" the man says.

David sits down and looks around. The world is still spinning, but from what he can make of it the boat isn't that bad. There must be worse, definitely. The man sits down in front of David and says something about "angels" and "saving him". It doesn't make any sense at all. What is this, a religious wacko? Whatever. Without asking David lean over, has his pants down and start sucking his cock. There's a price to pay. David know this so well. Better get on with it.

" - What the fuck are you doing you ungrateful little shit?!". The man flies up, his face is red of anger. And shame.
" - I'm here to save you from all this, I'm your guardian angel!"

Man, this guy is completely lost in his head David thinks to himself. In his confusion he looks around for something to grab on his way out. There's a bottle of whiskey standing, that's perfect... A stinging sensation steals David's attention and that thought disappear instantly. David look at his arm, there's an injection sitting there and whatever is inside it is shot into his veins.

The man watches as David in disbelief turn his head against his arm. Only seconds now, you're soon free. The heroin does what it's supposed to do. David's face turns pale, his eyes rolls back and he fall over on his back with a hard thump. There's no scream. No nothing.
The man leans back on the chair, lit a cigarette and slowly inhales. David is lying front of him. On his back. Breathing irregularly. More slowly now. Only a few more breaths, then it's all quiet. Then he's gone. Saved.

A few days later, launching day at boat club. Among other boats a wooden boat is put into the lake. A couple of attempts later the motor start and the owner takes his boat out for the first drive of the season. No one takes any notice when the boat makes a short stop in the middle of the lake. No one sees the weight down black gym bag carefully lowered into the water without any splash. It slowly descends into the watery cold dark grave and ends up not far from another bag.

The kid with cracked skull isn't alone anymore.

This story was inspired by a rumour circulating back in my suburbia days. According to this rumour one of the gluekids had been taken by a mysterious unknown man. Abused, killed and dumped in the lake. Of course it was only a rumour, but what if it wasn't. What if there was something more to it. What if there was someone - something - out there, harvesting all those lost kids whose time was up? Like a perverted angel saving them from their own torment for something better, sending them to the big sleep.

Fragments of passion (2)

2010-04-14T19:28:00.001+02:00

My perspectives are so creepy. It doesn't make any sense. At all.

What is this?
Where am I?

I'm lying at your feet, I watch you stare into the bathroom mirror, motionless, from this weird angle. Like taken from a cheap horror movie. I see you stand there staring, smoking. From below. The fumes slowly ooze out, like you're full of holes, leaking. What are you looking at, is there someone in there, inside the mirror. Someone you're trying to stare to death? I almost feel like ask you. Then I suddenly notice this intense headache, the worse you can imagine. Even worse. When I make an effort to move to touch my aching head and figure out what's wrong with it you become aware I'm awake. I see you slowly turn around, still with the hammer in your hand... the hammer you just hit me with. You do nothing, say nothing, just watch me touch my head, a head now almost completely covered in blood.

My hair, sticky, stripy, blood all over. Like the floor, there's even blood stains on the tile wall. I look at my hands, now also all red.
My God, what have you done to me? What kind of monster are you??

You lean over me, it's like you almost could hear my thoughts.

" - I'm your guardian angel. I'm here to save you."

I hear but I can't make any sense of what I was just told. My head aches so bad, it makes it impossible to focus. You fucking cracked my skull! What's wrong with you?! It's bizarre. Save me? Is this a sick joke??

Before I can react the injection is stuck in my upper arm and whatever shit you had in it has been pumped into me. I feel the panic, like a huge cover thrown over me. Shit, this is really happening. In an instant my anger goes away, I'm scared, please mom come and save me. Wake me up from this nightmare. Make this go away! Say everything's alright, please. The burning sensation in my veins is spreading and I can feel my heart pump faster and faster. Speeding like crazy. About to break. Please, don't let it end like this. That's my last thought before my vision goes tunnelling and blurres out.

I will never know where my body was dumped.

Fragments of passion (1)

2010-04-13T20:37:00.002+02:00

A squeezing hug, really tight. You run your hands trough my hair. Hands so soft, fingers like the branches of a sculptured tree. Studied perfection. I look you in your eyes, brown, makes me think of chocolate, the sweetest there is. Stunning, I'm close to drowning in the depth of your eyes. Then I feel your grip tighten till it almost hurts. My hair, my head, firmly stuck. Can't move, what is this? I see your lips start forming words, I concentrate to hear what you're saying, whispering. Why so quiet?

" - Volatile like air, like a constant sadness. I'm worried you might leave me. Do something."

I heard what you said but I don't understand what you meant by this. Volatile. Leave you? I just don't get it. While I think of this, I'm really trying to figure this out but it makes no sense at all, you come closer. A kiss, you're about to kiss me. I drop that thought of confusion, close my eyes and open my mouth slightly to receive your lips. I can feel you're close now. Then it stings, it's totally unexpected. Why the fuck did you bite me?! My eyes are instantly wide open and I pull back, as much I can move. Whatever I felt for you, it blew away, the taste of blood in my mouth confirms it. The look in your eyes has changed, I can see that straight away. The sweet chocolate is gone, all I can see is... anger? A stranger, there's definitely a stranger I'm looking at. It's you, but the eyes has changed.

I didn't even see the hammer coming before you slammed it in my head, you must have hidden it behind you. I was out before I hit the floor.

#29 The End

2010-04-08T16:59:00.005+02:00

I think I have reached the end of Daniels unfortunate tale, and I guess this end can be seen in different aspects. In a way I sense what was needed to be said finally has been said. And the inevitable and fast approaching end of Daniel wasn't in any way glamorous or had some cleverly thought out purpose, it was only sad lonely and pointless. I think I will simply spare you the details.

However, despite my useless grammar, I hope the factors leading up to his end has been somewhat clear. Still, there is something wrong with Daniels maths here. Whenever I review his life I cannot come up with the result Daniel did making him take the decision all hope was gone. But maybe I can no longer imagine or feel the true despair and hopelessness he felt, maybe I can no longer see the black hole he felt he was getting sucked into. I only know, I don't feel.

All I know, out of this mess Daniel v2 was born. He had to deal with some of the crap left behind, but with adequate guidance things didn't turn out so bad after all. The rest is history. Daniel v2's not that thrilling adventures in life can be followed elsewhere, like for instance; Here.

So far this the reactions on this blog has been modest. Don't worry, I don't blame anyone! I realize the subject isn't exactly the one making you feel inspired to drop comments. That makes the ones I had even more supporting and important. I also had a bunch of personal mails concerning this. I'm not going to publicly comment them here, but I have to say it really hurts when I hear about people sharing similar stories. If you check your official statistics you will find shocking figures about abuse and/or teenage suicide (-attempts). Remember, many cases are never reported so if it looks bad, in fact it is even worse.

I had one mail I want to mention though, I was basically asked 'Why are you dwelling on this?'
Well it's an honest and adequate question demanding an answer. Well, why? I really don't know why, but I guess it's about some perverse self-therapy. A process of acceptance and letting it all go. A need to be able to stand the look of myself in the mirror. It's hard to describe but I believe that's the reason. And I have to say I feel a little better inside now.
It's on your expense, I know... and I'm sorry for that.

So, Daniel is gone. While I figure out what to do with this blog things might go a little quite here for awhile. But don't worry, there are tons of trapped thoughts inside me queuing to get out. Maybe not about this subject though.

Thanks for reading!
Love

Daniel v2

:-)

#28 Shoot me

2010-04-07T16:33:00.001+02:00

Screw you. Life in smalltown wasn't that bad.
As long I ignore the feeling of being just as welcome as a two-headed green-skinned giant alien that just dropped out of space into a summer tea party to kill all, and if I ignore that ever increasing sense of claustrophobia, things in Smalltown was pretty much alright I guess.
I kept mostly to myself after school, walking on the beach or staying up in my room playing guitar. Tried to learn the piano. There were a few in school that dared approach me (I'm not sure what the rest thought would happen. Like I was about to stab them, eat them alive or so) and school was going okay. At least I gave it a decent attempt. I showed up and I tried. It didn't take long for the rumours to start circulate though; who I was and why I was there. The creature from outer space. In their school. Some of the rumours were true, most weren't. But how do you fight rumours? By telling? Telling what... How do you deny rumours without feeding them? You just can't. So life in smalltown was cool. Yeah right. Screw you.

After about a year we couldn't stand it anymore. Everything was closing in. Squeezing and suffocating. We all had to get out. Back to the city. I'm born in the city, I need the city to flourish. Anything else just isn't. The feeling of going back, back home, was intense, and for awhile things was going remarkably well.
Then one day I had a visitor from the past, I couldn't resist and it started all over. I remember waking up in a car, totally confused. Going somewhere. Obviously yes. Where? With whom? How did I get here? What is this? When I really focused, slowly fragments started to come back to me. A party with guys from school. Somehow it got suggested we should go to someone's summer house in the archipelago. In the middle of the night. It was so insane. In normal cases I would spot the bizarre in this and bail, but I didn't. I was high and drunk, I couldn't. I was back, it was all back.

The next day when I had found my way back home I was so ashamed of myself. My conscience was hammering on me, stabbing me with its knives of painful self-insight. For letting my parents down like this, they should simply just shoot me. They didn't deserve this... and I didn't deserve them. Strangely, they never said anything. I wasn't questioned, held responsible. Or shot.

Maybe I should have been.

#27 The beach

2010-04-04T17:53:00.000+02:00

The third time I went to the shower guy I had more than I bargained for. I prefer see it that way. The fourth time he drove me to another place, to someone else's apartment.

Do you know what it feels like when you shut down inside? A feeling of weightlessness. Like hovering above. The mind wonders away and it feels like you're not really there. You know you are, but you don't feel a thing. Nothing matters. You don't scream, you don't resist. Because nothing matters. There is one sound though, the sound of time passing. Focus on that and everything will be fine. Nothing else matters, remember? Just time. Passing.

Got paid alright. Got away safe. At home I showered what felt like for hours. Washed washed washed away the feeling of dirt. The feeling of hands on me. It had my eyes opened for what was about to happen, for where I was going. Like a spotlight, focusing on something I had to see. Had to realize.

I never went there again.

Soon after I quit school. Summer break. We had our place sold, our stuff all bagged and we moved away from the suburb. Me and mom took the train, the ride down south took forever. Dad had still his business to run, he came with the car a few days later. When the train picked up speed and left the city through the tunnels and over the bridges I felt nothing. I felt nothing when we finally arrived at smalltown late at night. The first night in my new room, my new bed, nothing.

The first emotion I actually had of this place was the following day when we checked the beach out. The air. The light. The sea. The weird smell off seaweed. The sand and the windswept pines. I was in love.
Of course there was more to smalltown than this. School was horrible, kids there even worse, but the beach became my hideout. My own place on earth. Away from it all.

#26 I was warned

2010-03-31T18:34:00.009+02:00

Knocking on the door. It's on the third floor in some grey boring block, forgotten by the maintenance crew long ago. I look around while I'm waiting for someone to answer. This place could definitely use some paint. And a serious cleaning. Graffiti and junk all over. The lift isn't working, if it was I so wouldn't ride it anyway, no way. Outside a burned-out stroller was lying thrown over like some perverted garden decoration, I'm convinced no one ever takes any notice of it, the metal skeleton just completes the scene.
When I was younger my mother warned me for going to this part of the suburb. Too much drugs and alcohol, she said. Too much sad and bad people. She don't know how right she was. This place is sick, just like its inhabitants. It's actually weird there isn't a wall raised around these blocks just to keep the disease in and anyone sane out. Maybe that's why I'm here. I'm insane. I've learned to feed on the loneliness and desperation just as the loneliness and desperation knows how to feed on me. It's a symbiosis in which there are no winners, only losers. It's definitely insane. I'm a part of what my mother warned me about, I realize that.

I knock again. Suddenly, I can hear movement on the other side of the door. The door opens carefully and the same face as last time is checking me out, trying to figure out if I'm trustworthy or not. Unshaved, stripy hair, black circles under his eyes. Please, don't have me describe his teeth, I can't even look at them without a sickening feeling.
After a few seconds this horrible guy obviously is convinced I'm alone and I'm let in. The smell in the apartment is just like I remember it from my last visit, absolutely sickening. Cat piss. Old booze. Cigarette smoke. Anything but fresh air. Obsessed with mess. I can see the cold flickering light from a TV and I hear the drunken convo between a woman and a man from another room. They're getting irritated about... I don't know. I don't care.
Swiftly the deal is finished. I ask about the price, it's the same as last time. No discounts to regular customers? Obviously not. I nod and hand over the money, in return I'm given a small paper bag, white, one of those you buy sweets in. I can see the irony in this; A bag of sweets. Very funny, I know it's not intentional, still it's funny. Or not really, it's disgusting. I open the bag and check its content, there's plenty missing, of course he's trying to rip me off. I give the guy a look and hold up my open bag.

' - C'mon... '

Without a word another bag is handed over, I check that one, yeah it's better. Deal. I stuff the bag down inside my jacket and open the door to leave this stinking place. The faster the better. I can hear the man and woman argue as the door is closed behind me. Louder now, and probably even more drunken. I shake my head and walk down the stairs. Paint, why don't anyone put some paint on these walls.
There are two kids sitting in the stairs a floor down now, almost blocking my way. As I push myself between them they both look at me with dirty faces and distant eyes. I can see how they struggle to focus. One of them ask for my name. Screw you, I think to myself without stopping. I can hear them giggle behind my back, it echoes between the walls. Glue. Definitely sniffing glue. Idiots.Waste your brains. Go ahead, do it. Look what I care.

When I'm outside the street door I see my bike has been pushed over... and there are some guys standing next to it. Damn, trouble! For a split second I consider ditching the bike and run like hell but before that thought is completed they see me. Shit, too late.

' - Heyy, you shithead...'

They walk up to me, I'm surrounded, grabbed and pushed down the basement stairs. Out of sight a half floor down, we're covered by a concrete wall and some nasty looking spiny bushes. My escape is blocked, I can't make a run for it now. Damn. They know that of course. I see the knife flashing in front of my face, it's huge. A serious knife. I'm so not messing with it. A fast movement later and there's a cut in my jacket, chest height. The tearing sound stays in my ears like a grim reminder, like a warning.

' - Next one will be way deeper, you hear? Give me your jacket!'

What can I say. While I'm pushed up against the concrete wall one guy rips my jacket off and goes through its pockets. The little I have is taken. Some change, nothing really, don't care about it. My walkman, shit! My bus pass, oh well. And the bag of weed, of course, that was what they were after. They knew what I was doing here, they were waiting for me. Of course. Fuck. I'm so stupid! Why wasn't I more careful!

' - We know you, fag' one of them says and my jacket is thrown up the stairs and concrete wall, into the bushes.

I can feel a sting on my arm, like a burn. Fuck, I'm cut! When I look my sweater is slit and there's a long cut on my lower arm, straight over. Not that deep. Still, the blood is just about to come.

' - Consider yourself lucky, you little shit. Next time we'll take you out'

I keep my mouth shut, I know better than say something making this mess even worse. I'm just waiting for them to snatch whatever they need and leave. They soon do. Laughing and pleased they run off. From my corner down the stairs I see them stop at my bike. The knife is slashing deep into both tyres, I can hear the air rushing out, finally the bike is kicked with a rattling noise. Damn. I swear yelling at them, at myself, I'm so stupid. Why didn't I run when I had the chance.

' - What are you doing? Get out of here before I call the police!'

Some old lady is standing in her window shouting. I give her a single look, not more, what can I say to her. 'Yes please call the cops, they just stole my weed..' Yeah right.

When I'm sure they're gone I grab my gear, what's left, and bandage the cut with my jacket. It's slit and ruined anyway, some blood on the jacket won't make any difference. The walk home takes me about one hour and when I get there I'm alone. Suites me fine. I can clean this shit up and put my bike away unnoticed. I'll tell dad some punks did the bike at school, he'll start cursing them, then help me fix it. I'll dump the jacket and say it's been stolen in school. And the arm... I'll simply have it covered for a week or so. Piece of cake. No one will ever see.

I don't care about the pain in my arm. The anger I feel, the shame of getting mugged like a stupid ten year old, it takes away it all. And all the crap I had to do to earn that cash now gone, I realize I did it for free, that really pisses me off. Totally. My aching arm is nothing in comparison. Someone will have to pay for that arm, trust me. This is life in suburbia. Only the toughest survives, I consider myself one of them.

But why am I then crying?

#25 Doomed

2010-03-28T13:02:00.010+02:00

We're doomed, I know we all are.
The question is; doomed for what.
What will our destiny be.
And when.
How much agonies must we go through before whatever fate waiting for us will catch up.

What brought us here, what did we do to deserve this. Is this some sort of punishment, how long will the sentence be.
For life, is that enough?

I close my eyes and keep on showering. The shampoo is running all over me, slowly heading for the drain, the escape, wish I could join. At the other side of the frosted glass, I know there's someone watching me, he want to have good value for his money. So I keep on showering. Should be in school, I'm not. I'm here, again. In his stinky apartment for some quick cash. I need the money so I ignore the sickening feeling, ignore the fat guy desperately wanking, watching. I try to splash some more shampoo on the glass to block his view out but it's washed away in just seconds. That doomage again. I shut down and focus on the cash coming.
I'm not here. He's not here. None of us are. This is not.
(keep on showering)

Finally, done. He's still sitting with his pants down. Still breathing hard, I can hear. I don't want to see, I dress quickly, I don't even dry myself, I don't look him in his eyes, I just snatch my reward and I'm out. I'm not running, but I'm not staying either. The note in my jeans burns, the feeling I've sunk a little deeper burns. Everything burns so damn much.

Like a fire. Let 'em all burn.
We're all doomed, I know that.

So what, I have my weed now.
Inhale.
Let the haze take away all this, if only for a moment.

#24 The well

2010-03-23T21:06:00.000+01:00

Have you ever thought about darkness, what's it really like?

On our premises we have a well. Not that wide, not that deep either. It's covered by a heavy concrete lid to preventing someone from falling in. Sometimes I drag that lid away... just out of curiosity. I can see the water, and if I look very carefully I can see the old bucket still lying on the bottom. I threw that bucket in long ago, I wanted to see it sink, pretending it was me. Drowning. In the well. The sight was awesome, I almost got hard as I saw it disappear with a sound impossible to catch. Like a scream for help. I didn't move a finger, I silently stood there, watched it go under. It's still there, the bucket. By now coloured by rust, slowly falling apart. Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The well amazes me. It's not that deep, still deep enough to surround me with its darkness.

I think a lot about darkness.

#23 Only then

2010-03-09T19:46:00.001+01:00

Sometimes I hate my shadow.
I hate how it follows me wherever I go, disguised as me.
I hate what it represents; Me.
What I am, what I have become.
Everyone I have ever met, everyone I have ever encountered.
Everyone I've ever hurt, everyone I ever will.
Everything focused and reflected through that blockage of light.
It's me. That darkness is me. It's me blocking out the light.
Or really, is it?
Maybe it's the light avoiding me. For what I have become.
For what I represent.
For who I am. For being me.
Sometimes I hate my shadow, for good reasons I believe it's mutual.
In that shadow lurking; My past. My future. My everything.

The shadow knows.
The shadow want this to end.
The shadow want me to pay my depts.
Sometimes I believe the shadow has come to take me away.
I can feel it creep up at me and put its weigh on me.
Push me out the window and follow me all the way. Down.
Make sure I hit the surface hard. Only then will the shadow leave me.
Only then.

#22 Rain

2010-03-05T20:43:00.001+01:00

Do you want to go out with me in the rain?
Come with me. Have our sins washed away. Our troubled minds.
Running up the dirt road, jumping over the puddles.
Take shelter inside the old barn and hear the rain hit the roof.
Like thunder.

It's only you and me. Overlooked by the pouring rain.
I will tell you this matters, having you close.
Sharing whatever little I have.
See you standing there.
Next to me.

I will tell you this matters.
This moment. Forever.

#21 Waving

2010-03-03T16:42:00.003+01:00

A million trees. Two millions. A snow-covered field. That's all there is. The scene outside my window could just have been Mars... if you rule out the snow and the trees... it means nothing to me. It's sterile. It's dead.

The trip here took hours. We left the city, going north in the early hours. 'Before the traffic starts', that's something of my dad's mantra. Always 'before the traffic starts'. What happens then, I have never found out. Some epic chaos, zombies? I will never find out, we always go 'before the traffic starts', no matter what. We're only going for Christmas, so I've been told, but judging from all stuff packed and brought we'll be away the entire school break. Three weeks. To keep me out of trouble, I get that. I probably should fight this, cause some major scene, resist violently, but I don't care. I don't care about anything any longer.
So I sit silently in the backseat, lean my head against the window, against my pillow. I watch as we leave the city and the scenery slowly changes. The city goes suburb, goes flatland, goes deep woods. We pass one city. Another one. The terrain goes rough, the trees are so many, impossible to count, standing in line like soldiers, saluting my passage. Snow. So much snow. Cars speeding by. Before the traffic starts? Sure.
A thousand turns later, finally, here. I got lost long ago. All roads look the same, have you ever thought of that? Where am I? I don't know. Nowhere. Don't care.

I watch millions of trees and a snow-covered field from my window. Days becomes nights becomes days becomes nights becomes days, like woven together to a web. The difference is hard to distinguish, if there even is one. I'm the spider. Or its catch. Ian Curtis is on my tape recorder. Unkown Pleasures. 'Had to think, collect my senses now, Are turned on to a knife edged view.' Trying to pick that song out on my guitar but I can't really get the chords right. Honestly, it sounds like shit. I like this guitar though, my dad just gave it to me. A black Fender acoustic. After I restringed it, I love this guitar. Sharp. Like a damn razor. Quality, no doubt about it. Tune the low E, now - perfect.
What time is it? Evening. Morning. Anything. I'm tired but I do my best to ignore. I hate my sleep, I hate the dreams coming to me. Nightmares. I'm brought back, everything is brought back. The panic. The sense of dying. The sick laughter. I don't want to sleep, or at least I want to silence it all. God knows I try. One dreamless night, that's all I'm asking for. The shrink prescribed me pills to make me relax and sleep, I don't take them any longer. I hate hate hate that numb feeling. I hate the eyes mum and dad are exchanging when they see the pills are doing what they're supposed to do. Haze. Mist. Distorted voices, sort of far away. Fall asleep. There's a look of concern between them... worry. Never going to take those pills again. 'Down the dark streets, the houses looked the same...' Joy Division. Don't sleep.

A knock on my door. Dad asks me to join him on a walk and we get dressed. There's nothing to see that hasn't already been seen but the cold air makes me stay awake. The abandoned mill, dead, silent, covered with snow. The icy pond. Tracks of snowmobiles. And all those trees. We're back again. Can't live this life. There's nothing to it. I just can't.

By then I didn't know; in a not that distant future I will spend months in this very place, restarting my life. Strangely, with a feeling of liking. Then the trees will be waving at me, cheering. Supporting my struggles. Mars?? Heaven. Isn't it strange how the perception of a place can change so much?

A million trees. Waving.

#20 Caged

2010-02-26T16:19:00.006+01:00

I'm taking my shoes and socks off. My toes are digging themselves into the sand. I shouldn't be here really but I guess no one in school is missing me. There's nothing for me there. I'm the outcast, the alien, the odd novelty no one understand. No one speaks to me.
There's nothing here either, but I like the beach. The salty air, the light, the musty smell of seaweed, the seagulls, it blows my mind clear, gives me a breathable space of my own. For a moment, if only for a few minutes, I feel free from it all. From life. From my cage.

A gust from the ocean is ruffling my hair, like a giant friendly hand. Like an invisible grandfather with grey hair and old eyes, smoking his pipe. Ruffling my hair. Smiling. At me. Takes me fishing, baits the hook for me. We sit silently at the bridge, waiting. Smiling at me. My grandfather. Invisible.

The summer has come and gone, so also the tourists. Life in smalltown with the silly name is back at its usual orbit around nothing, waiting for next summer. This time of year the beach is empty beside a few joggers and someone walking their dogs. Suits me fine.
The beach stretches in both directions throughout the entire bay. I can spot the restaurant, closed for the season by now. In the far distant the lighthouse is sticking up, like a warning finger glued to the cliff. Don't come too close, I'm dangerous. Stay away. Beside a cargo ship making its way far out, just by the horizon, the sea is deserted. I hope that ship doesn't fall over the edge, would be a shame. It's the only ship out there, I don't want it to fall over and disappear. I can hear the train just inland the coast signal at a crossing. Its horn sounds so lonely. So desperately lonely, like a cry for help. The train that brought me to this smalltown, it's desperate too. I know how it feels. Poor train. Wish I could help you.

I turn around and watch the footprints behind me, I can only spot a few. The rest has been washed away by the sea. The merciless sea, it takes whatever it want to take. Wipes out whatever it want to wipe out. My footprints, the sea doesn't like my footprints. It's obvious. Maybe the sea doesn't like me either, it's just trying to figure out how to wipe me out, too. Or maybe the sea knows it is forever stuck in the ocean. Knows it is condemned to be driven by the wind, crash wherever the wind blows it. The world is a truly strange place.

The sea is splashing over my feet, soaking my jeans. I hear someone approaching calling for me. Ignore. The train signal again, far away now. It echoes back and forth, caged, trying to break free.

Like me. Caged. With myself.

#19

2010-02-23T18:41:00.001+01:00

In a way I think death is constantly with us.
Present. Waiting for us to slip.
Ready to spread the darkness, ready to harvest us.

I think we are easy prey, we humans.
So stupid. So fragile. So naive.
We think we know, understand it all.

In fact, we know nothing.
Nothing.

Maybe we are doomed. Destined to perish.
Maybe it's just a matter of time.

#18

2010-02-19T20:04:00.004+01:00

Monsters are, they come out at night. I try to have my night lamp turned on but it doesn't take long for dad to see it and come turn it off. 'You're a big boy now', he says. It doesn't matter how much I object. 'This light stays off', he says. So here I'm in my bed, under my cover, waiting for the monsters to appear in the dark. I don't want to die, I'm scared. I try not to breathe, I try not not to make any sounds. I try not to move. It works for awhile, not that long though. Eventually they come through my window, from under my bed, from the closet, some turn up from nowhere. Hiding under my cover I can hear them in my room as they're looking for a way to reach me. I can hear their silent whispering, and when I take a glimpse I can see their shapeless shadows round up beside my bed.

Monsters are, they come out at night. Come out to take me away, I know that's what they want. I stay under my cover, close my eyes hard and focus to not let them into my mind. I can hear them mumbling as they lean over and touch my cover with their horrible hands, making that smell of death mould and decay reach my nose. I can feel their fingers run over my back, touching me, sending icy cold shivers down my spine. Trying to rip the life out of me. Go away! Go away! Go away! Go away! That's what I'm thinking. Go Away! When I were just a kid I screamed and cried for someone to come. Mum and Dad stopped long ago. No one is coming to save me any longer. I'm still screaming, silently, in my mind.

Monsters are, they come out at night. I can see monsters, all kids can. Why else do you think your children scream at night? A bad dream, sure. Why do you think you sometimes wake up all sweaty? Why do you think you sometimes wake up with that overwhelming feeling of uneasiness? The monsters are there. Even when you have gone old and can't see them any longer the monsters are there. You can't see them any longer but your mind can sense them, your senses can detect them. With fear. Horror.

Monsters are, they come out at night. To take us away.
That's when we die.

Please don't let me die tonight.

Please.

#17

2010-02-17T21:18:00.005+01:00

Sitting on the metro. It's late. Saturday night.
I'm on a ride towards nowhere, anywhere but home. The train leaves yet another station. I watch as it picks up speed, the people on the platform waiting are speeding by. Faster and faster. Then we enter the tunnel and they all disappear, like wiped out by the hand of God. If I lean my head against the window and look carefully into the dark I can spot the tunnel coating, cables attached, stuff I can't identify. Like my life, details rushing by in darkness. I can hardly see, hardly understand, I'm only given a glimpse, like a preview, but I'm not presented enough to get the picture.

I close my eyes. Like this, the train feels comforting, like it's impossible to stop, destined to reach wherever it's going. We stop at a couple of stations without me opening my eyes. I hear the breaks, the doors open and people getting on and off. Then the train starts again. Repeat.

I'm awakened from my slumber by loud voices. Shouting noises. Laughter. Some gang of kids has entered the other end of the car and are playing tough. Messing around. Older than me. I decide to get off before they notice me, I don't feel like getting robbed or beaten up. When the doors open next time I make myself as invisible as possible and quickly sneak out. I hold my breath and pray they didn't follow me. I'm prepared to throw myself on board the train again if they did, or try outrun them. Nothing happens, the door closes and the train starts moving down the platform and I watch it disappear into the tunnel. The red lights on its end is eaten by the darkness and the singing noise from the track fades out.

Green tiles all over the walls, makes me want to throw up. This must be the ugliest station ever. That's probably why it's empty, no one can stand this place. Suits me fine. I sit down on a wooden bench. Maybe the next train will take me away from here, maybe not. My mind wanders away in all possible directions. I'm on a grass field, on my back, watching clouds. Summer. Christmas with my family opening presents. In our boat, I'm the one steering. Dad is keeping an eye on me making sure I stay on course. My red bike.

Suddenly someone is standing next to me, brown pants. I see a dirty jacket when I look up. Need to shave. Grey hair. Looks old. 50. 150. Don't know. Don't care. Where are you going, do you need a place to stay for the night. I don't answer. Come with me, don't worry, he says. Where am I going anyway, I slowly get up and follow him. The escalator up from the platform, out from the station and a few blocks away. Upstairs. The lift isn't working. His place looks like shit, smells even worse. A cat is meowing, walks up to me and strikes itself to my legs. You can use that one. I'm pointed towards a dirty mattress on the floor. I look around, it's dark, the only light is coming from the lights down the street outside. I can't see much. The mess is complete. There's a sofa, I'm so not going to sit in it. A TV, if it works it's a miracle. A million newspapers and boxes thrown all over. And the mattress. I lie down and pull my legs up close, the dirty plaid over me, up to my nose. It stinks. In the dark I hear the cat meow a few times and the man is silently talking to it from the room next to me. I think of my mother. Close my eyes.

The following day I'm back on the metro, going home I think. Or away. Nothing happened to me during the night. I'm not sure whether I'm relieved or disappointed.

#16

2010-02-14T21:06:00.000+01:00

Honesty. Looking at oneself in the mirror with honest eyes, damn that hurts. Makes me want to look away, aside. I can't stand what I see. I can't stand the look of myself. Lowlife. Scum. Worthless piece of crap. I hate what I see from the bottom of my heart. What's left of my heart, it's dedicated to hate that figure in the mirror. I stare, I stare into the eyes looking at me. They are starting to stare back with the same intensity. Now, it's a standstill, this time I won't back down! I stare. This is hate. Have you ever sensed true hate, felt hate? Felt the smell of hate? This is hate. Something snap inside me. In my mind I grab a huge knife and run it through the chest of that figure. I run the knife as deep I can. I run the knife till it stops and can't go any further. I watch as blood start to pour out of the wound, bleeding through that tee. What a horrible tee anyway, he's really begging for it. You creep, not that cool now are you?? In slow motion I see that figure stand there, looking straight at me, straight into my eyes, with a knife stuck deep into his chest. He doesn't move, doesn't breathe, doesn't blink. Doesn't anything. In slow motion I see blood colour the tee red, still he doesn't show a face. Just stand there. Eyes staring at me. Was that a smile?? A tiny stupid smile is on his lips now. How is that possible? How can my own mirror image smile at me, the knife is still there damn it! I can clearly see it, it's still deep stuck into the chest! He's laughing now, a sick laughter! Fuck what is this?? Standing there, laughing. At me. There's blood all over and it's still pouring out more. His arms are hanging straight down, motionless. The knife, the blood, the laughter. It's too much! I close my eyes hard and it all stops. When I open my eyes again I'm back in front of that mirror. In my room, alone. Dressed in a worn out tee and my underwear, nothing more. A pair of blue eyes is looking at me under the dirty blond fringe. Skinny legs, looks like they're gonna break any second. It's late, it's getting dark outside, the orange lamp in my window isn't lit. I don't know how long I've been standing in front of my mirror beside the door. It doesn't matter. It only takes a fraction of a look for me to realize I can't stand what I see. It was the day I smashed that mirror.

#15

2010-02-11T21:21:00.000+01:00

'You know you can tell me anything?'
'...but obviously you don't feel like it.'
'This approach won't help you much. I hope you realize that.'

I'm looking at the clock on the wall. The seconds are ticking away, slowly turning to minutes. Seconds. If I focus hard on the gauges and their chopping movement I can block this joke of counsellor out of my mind. It's like I'm trying to stop time by concentrating. Or become one with time. He sound so far away now. I can't even hear what he's saying any more. He's saying something, I don't know what. Couldn't care less. blablabla. Words. Trying to be nice. Pretending to understand. Idiot. Focus on the seconds. I can hear the seconds pass by if I focus really hard. I can hear time. I wonder if I can hear gravity as well. Images start coming to my mind. A stabbed body lying in the dirt. Beasts with glowing eyes are throwing themselves over the corpse, snarl at each other, ripping the limbs from the body. They come loose with muffled crunching noises. Slashing razorblades hold by wrinkled hands. Blood floating all over. A noose pulled over a neck, and tightened. The sack over the head, everything goes dark.

'Are you even listening to me?'

I'm suddenly awakened from my images and they're all gone. For an instant I'm about to say no, but I quickly realize that wasn't really a question. He isn't even looking at me. He's back at his desk looking at some papers, turning the pages, taking notes. Probably about me. Uncooperative. I bet he's writing that. Un-co-op-era-tive. Di-sturb-ed. I'm sitting deep down on the chair. It isn't even a comfy chair. My arms crossed on my chest. Looking at the clock again. Focusing. I can hear him write something, then puts the pen down.

'I think we're done here.'

Couldn't agree more. He opens the door and I get up. No need to show me out, I'll find my way. He comes anyway. My mother is sitting down the hall waiting for me. When she sees us coming she get up, ruffles my hair but I quickly move my head away. 'I'll call you tomorrow' he says and takes my mothers hand. 'Take care' he says to me. I don't even look at him. We leave without saying a word. I'm not saying a word.

Couldn't say a word.
Beasts inside me are ripping me in pieces. With muffled crunching noises. How do you say that?

#14

2010-02-02T20:03:00.002+01:00

Don't know.
Don't know why I have to feel this way. Tired. Of. Hell.
Yet I know, nothing is worth anything. Only what's now is worth the price.
Only that.

#13

2010-01-29T20:21:00.000+01:00

I'm sitting in a sofa, deep down on my back, almost lying. It's someone's apartment in the city. Honestly I don't know who's living here really. And I'm not sure exactly where I am either. Friday it is, should have been in school. At first I were, but then after lunch we left. Me and some classmates cruised around in the city that afternoon, bored, making noise. Then some of them knew someone who knew a guy who knew... like that.
So here I am. Been here for awhile by now. It's getting late. I'm so drunk. This place looks like shit, the mess is just unbelievable. The TV is on, something random. MTV I think. No one's watching. The stereo is pumping out Joy Division loud. No one's listening. Screams. Laughters. Chaos. No one cares. This place is grotesque. Camouflage nets are used as curtains. Bottles everywhere. Just grab whatever you want. Can't locate the people I got here with, maybe they've left for something better. I'm still here though, why should I go. Where should I go. Home? Hardly. I don't know anyone here, why bother. I'm in the sofa. Almost lying. Drunk. A ceiling fan is spinning above my head. I lean my head back and watch it go around and around. Like my life. Stuck in circles. It want to break free and escape through the window but it can't. Stuck. In circles. Someone is passing the smoke. Inhale. It burns deep down my throat. Inhale again. Stay on this one... blow it out the nose. There you go. Something warm is running through my veins. Something cold. The haze is embracing me. Nothing matters. The noise around me goes distant. My head is afloat in space, something random comes in mind. I laugh. Can't focus. I don't want to focus, just keep it all out of my head. Some chick I've never seen before has sat down beside me. She's saying something I can't make any sense of so I just smile at her. She laughs out loud and jumps up on my lap, puts her arms around me. I'm given that smoke again. Close my eyes. Inhale. She takes it from my mouth and breathes in herself. Deep. We both laugh at nothing at all. Maybe we're making out, maybe we're going all the way. Maybe not. Can't remember.
The next thing I know I'm at home, in my bed. The sun is shining at me. I have no idea how I got here. Or when. I don't dare ask. I'm feeling like shit. My head feels like a football, a seriously kicked football. Can I please just lie down and die. The horror is all over me. It's back. The escape was just temporary, now everything is back. It's back and it's worse.

Later. I'm in the backseat of my parents car. I'm on school break. They've rented a cabin to get me out of town. Away from of it all. We've been driving through the woods for forever by now. Couldn't care less. The apathy is all over me. 38457 turns later we stop. The house is in the middle of nowhere, on a small hill, brown with white corners. I can spot a million trees trees trees and a snowy field as far my eyes can see. That's it. It's so quiet it almost hurts in my ears. There's nothing for me here, nothing but nothing. My dad had bought me a new guitar, a black Fender acoustic. It became my company for two weeks. The guitar and the knowledge I couldn't live this life became my company.

#12

2010-01-28T19:52:00.001+01:00

Today I had me a haircut. A very much needed haircut I have to say. I've been putting this up for so long, eventually I couldn't stand my hair. No matter how much I washed it, the itching soon started again. I gave up long ago trying to make some sense out of that mess. Bed head 24/7. I couldn't delay it much longer.

It's so damn uncomfortable. I'm about to crawl out of my skin when someone other than myself touches my hair. Even worse, when someone grabs it. I try to move one and leave things behind but there are still memories deeply stuck with me. Like this hair thing. I'm forced down on my knees. My head is hold tight, it almost hurts. Can't move. Pushed closer. That sick laughter. I see his pants unbutton and my hell breaks loose. My life comes crashing down on me. It's painfully clear in my mind. Starting to feel that weird taste in my mouth, I'm all dry. Like I'm about to faint. Can I have a glass of water? I need to carefully watch myself in the mirror in front of me to realize this isn't happening.

Today I had me a haircut. Please, God, don't make me go there again. Or stab me with the scissors.

#11

2010-01-24T21:32:00.002+01:00

#10

2010-01-23T12:38:00.006+01:00

The day I finished school I wasn't even there.
Wasn't there to pick up my marks.
Wasn't there to say goodbye.
The day I finished school I was home sick.

or at least, that's what we told everyone

The day I finished school I was home in bed,
couldn't strain myself to get out of it.
Just couldn't. I had totally lost my will of everything.
We had our stuff packed, it was time to move away from it all.

That day, the first and only time my teacher called home and asked,
how are you doing.
Pathetic isn't it. Why ask now.
Didn't tell him anything. 'I'm sick' That's it. Hung up.

we left. i didn't care. but i guess it was worth the try.

Kids there had a horrible dialect, couldn't fucking understand them. What is this??
Didn't know anyone.
But I liked the sea. The sand on the beach.
The windswept pine forest. The distant lighthouse.
Could walk there for hours.
You know what I recall the most though. The shower.
I sat on the tile floor and had the water pour over me till we were out of hot water in the entire house.
Felt like all problems got washed away. I could think clearly.
The world went down the drain.
It was only me and the rain.

We stayed about a year in that smalltown.
Till we couldn't stand it any more.
The main street. The supermarket. The town square.
The hot dog stand.
The bored kids. The drama.
The poking finger behind the back. The whispering.
Everything was closing in. Squeezing. Suffocating.
The houses felt like they were falling in on me.

Get the hell out of there. Can't take any more.
When thinking of it, that was our first unanimous decision in years.
We didn't even fight. I even helped pack.

Whenever I pass a smalltown nowadays I can feel the panic coming back at me.

Hell, to me it's a smalltown.

#9

2010-01-21T13:26:00.002+01:00

A bright light. Attached to a white ceiling.
The first I ever saw when I opened my eyes in the second life.

My mother holding my hand. Crying. Whispering 'I'm here baby'
The first I ever heard

Feeling sick to my stomach. Trying to throw up whatever isn't there any longer.
The first sensation I ever had.

Then, the absolute confusion.
A nurse holding up a paper bag, pieces of something green and slimy are coming out of my throat.
I can't stop the vomiting. It's nothing in there, still it doesn't stop.
Where am I. What is this.
Am I alive. What's happening.
I look around. Mum and dad is there. The nurse. My sis.
All looking at me.
I'm in bed. Hooked up to tubes. Machines.
I can hear people talk outside the door.

Starting to remember. Bits and pieces are slowly falling into place.
I'm at home. My room. I have a box of pills in my hand.
It's empty. And I'm waiting for the sleep to free me.

I'm so ashamed. Starting to cry.
Mum is holding my hand tight. Whispering 'I'm here baby'.

My second life has just started.

#8

2010-01-20T21:25:00.007+01:00

It didn't take that long
people started to ask
'are you alright'

'Of course' I lied, as my plunge in life continued.

Unsocial my friends called me an unsocial freak, why should I even waste my time on those jerks, school yes I know I must take a grip of myself, can't fail there, but no one seems to care about me, got sent to detention class again for what reason I don't know and my friends just laughed at me, sitting there staring at the watch at the seconds slowly ticking away and the nagging teacher sounds so far away if I focus really hard I can't even hear her, next day I didn't even go to school, what's the freakin point, met a friend 'hey are you ditching school, cool, come on party instead', came home late dad was furious, 'where the hell did you go', fuck school called home didn't think of that, like I'd care, let dad nag his head off I won't listen to that crap anyway, stayed out all night, next day school again, the counsellor called for me, 'are you alright, your parents are worried you know you can tell me', screw you, you really don't care about me sat the session out, stayed in school for maybe a week or two and kept a low profile really tried then it started all over, forgot my homework came late whatever detention again, next day 'will you go to school today' mum asked, sure I said, lied to her, I hate that place all are stupid zombies, someone introduced me to weed and my problems felt far away and I didn't care about anything but when the horror came back it was worse than ever, at home mum cried and dad grabbed me and yelled 'look what you did now she's crying you little shit', fought myself loose locked my door buried my head deep in my pillow like I was trying to suffocate myself still could hear him yell at me to open, I hate you I hate myself I hate everyone I hate myself please leave me alone stop screaming I hate you, big tears I can't breathe my throat is full of tears what's the point I want to die I can't fucking breathe stop screaming at me!

And I only wanted mum to hug me tight and hear her say everything will be alright.

#7

2010-01-20T12:53:00.001+01:00

Laughing out loud makes it feel all right.
Makes it subside, for now.
It makes it feel like it was about some other me.
I turn my head the other way, I try look away. Stay on this feeling.

But as I walk away from myself.
there are voices inside me saying
'you can't escape this'
and I feel my tears turn to blood

The laughter that just moments ago made me feel alright
is now stuck in my throat.
Like a balloon that rise and then vanish.
I can feel this drop of hope fade a way.

The panic inside is like a volcano.
I can't stop it from erupting.
I fucking can't.
I turn away and hope my friends won't notice my tears.

Tears stinging like blood.

#6

2010-01-09T23:26:00.000+01:00

Slowly I was taken towards the darkness.
Slowly. So slow I didn't see it coming.
That night we went to the party,
that night I was dragged down the black hole.

But not at first.

This was my first insight in adult partying.
Scary. So different. Thrilling.
Loud music. Home made booze. Probably drugs too.
Didn't have any of it, just cruised around.

Shouldn't be there.

At first I didn't want to go
Knew my parents never would let me
So I didn't tell. Didn't ask. Made up some lie.
Thirteen. Fourteen? About to break loose.

About to commit the mistake of my life.

#5

2010-01-06T20:18:00.005+01:00

I remember the day I finally decided.
It started as a mind game. What if. Would anyone care.
In a way I nowadays can't understand I got used to the thought.
A desperate idea
became a possibility.
Slowly it became the only option.
The way out.

The big sleep would free me.

Got home early for school, no one was home.
I knew where the pills were.
This was the day to free myself.

Little did I know.

#4

2010-01-03T14:56:00.000+01:00

In a way, that's probably how life is.
Different phases, we have to deal with whatever is thrown at us.
Sometime it's too late.
Too late to wake up.
Too late to react.
To save ourselves.

#3

2010-01-02T08:36:00.001+01:00

- Probably knew

I guess he wasn't a good friend.
I guess I knew.
I guess all the crazy fun we had made me look the other way.

He came and went.
He did what he pleased.
He showed me the other side of life.

And death.

#2

2010-01-01T21:15:00.006+01:00

- Last forever

We thought we were indestructible.
Immortal. Born with armour.
So we lived our lives accordingly.
What could possibly happen - to us?

Biked like crazy.
Swam the lake at night.
Innocent at first. Later on irresponsible.

Slowly being pulled under.
Didn't notice.

#1

2009-12-31T15:14:00.003+01:00

- The Beginning

Light
Life
Game and fun
Nothing is serious, nothing is for real
actually, why should it be serious?