With nothing left to pour:

Today belongs to me, no one else.
I turned down my parents' invitation to lunch.
I also turned down two waiters when they asked me if I wanted a drink.
I didn't want to; I subconsciously say no to everything without even thinking.
No but I revise what I want to say to you above all else.


So I sat down to read and these are my favourite quotes from the book I'm taking forever to finish(on purpose) so far:
"I would have done anything for him. Maybe that was my sickness.
We made love in nothing places and turned the lights off. It felt like crying.
He squeezed my sides so hard, and pushed so hard.
Like he was trying to push through me to somewhere else.
Why does anyone ever make love?

"I miss you already, Oskar. I missed you even when I was with you.
That's been my problem. I miss what I already have,
and I surround myself with things that are missing.

"He wrote, You're being crazy. You're going to catch a cold.
I already have a cold.
You are going to catch a colder.
I could not believe he was making a joke. And I could not believe I laughed.

"Touching him was always so important to me.
It was something I lived for. I never could explain why.

"He must have weighed my life against a life he might have been able to save. Or ten. Or one hundred. He must have decided that my life weighed more than one hundred lives.
He promised us that everything would be OK. I was a child, but I knew that everything would not be OK. That did not make my father a liar. It made him my father.

This one strikes the heart of all my secrets:
"Does it break my heart, of course, every moment of every day, into more pieces than my heart was ever made of, I never thought of myself as quiet, much less silent, I never thought about things at all, everything changed, the distance that wedged itself between me and my happiness wasn't the world, it wasn't the bombs and burning buildings, it was me, my thinking, the cancer of never letting go, is ignorance bliss, I don't know, but it's so painful to think, and tell me, what did thinking ever do for me, to what great place did thinking ever bring me? I think and think and think, I've thought myself out of happiness one million times, but never once into it."

--
Today's weather sheds a very beautiful light on every corner in my pink room.
This is my definition of gorgeous. This is what it feels like to be gorgeous.
Everything is balanced and perfect: the colours, the birds, the atmosphere.
Like how being around you is "gorgeous" to me.
I don't want to see anybody today; if I had a sniper gun, I'd kill the woman in orange just outside my window. And all the workers there as well.
But she does have a very nice smile.
I wish the whole world were blind so I could sit at the deck completely naked, writing like this.
I want beds to be put up everywhere: in town, in the parks, on the roads, next to shipping ports and airplanes.
I want everyone to sleep and be quiet so that I can stop screaming so much inside.
But don't see me as selfish. I'm not done.
Then strangers could climb into beds and speak about secret things.
Like how you've got sweet tits and your eyes make me cry and that money doesn't matter, it is my pride I cannot tear down, how I wish you'd let me be somebody for you, how I wish you'd let me be myself, I don't want to have kids with you because I do not love you, I don't want to need a child, God are you listening to me. Can you listen to me.
These people shall be strangers, strangers that live in our homes and sleep through the nights with us in the same burning beds at home.
These beds shall be new and white that smell just like the air conditioning in hospitals.
People have to listen to very loud music and be very quiet as they walk past these beds so the bed people can speak.
The chances that conflict will ensue is probably 80%. I don't know, I'm just guessing.
But if you don't like strangers you can stay in bed with me.
And not go out of the house because the world makes us cry.
My head is so heavy and my heart is weighed down by a thousand bricks that probably came crashing down from the house I built up in my dreams. The house that housed you and me and perfect people and perhaps God Himself too.
You are perfect to me too.
I am sick but I don't know why.
I don't want to see anybody today; I will turn everyone down.
There are no exceptions in this world.

i have burning questions
but you won't give me answers
so i burn inside instead

being happy-go-lucky is a chore when you know you've lost it

i am alone but i am strong.

Art can be controlled

How is it that I don't mind doing stupid things? Yes very Stupid things indeed.
And how is it that I forget so quickly?
But I, I have changed.

Somebody scribbled chalk all over my blackboard. MY BLACKBOARD.

Merciless chalk, of a thousand different shades with texture that's ever so sure, ever so prominent- and if you ever tried rubbing it off, it smudges and the shades blend.
So much so that you cannot identify the previous shade anymore nor comprehend how the phenomenon/wrong move of a touch could make you lose what you had before.
It has become a new shade altogether.

Like how you allow things to happen. Stupid things indeed.

And have you heard the sound it makes when it skids? It's a fucking long screech. And it gives you goosebumps.

It makes your heart beat like a voodoo drum; you can't control it.

Fuck, the colours are overwhelming. Some warm, some cold. But the cold colours appeal more to the eye; they capture my heart far more than the flaming reds, the cosy browns, the sunny golds and the petal pinks. Therapy, yes? Or no?

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You hear that?

He shouts!
You giggle
You whisper
You scream
You wail
He whispers
The screaming stops

And evidence of a life shabbily led and a heart recklessly abandoned floods the entire canvas.

"Baby, you have to redo it." Advice, yes. Advice helps, doesn't it?
After all, not everyone buys your art.

I can't offer help
I don't know what works and what does
How do you always know what to do, know what to say

If less is all I will ever be
Then more is what you deserve
Lest you get stuck in this rut too

fuck it

And if it's not real, you can't hold it in your hand, you can't feel it with your heart

yknow when you give
you don't expect anything back in return
but what if what you're giving is love
it's only natural to want something back, isn't it?

yknow i won't go if you don't
i'm not afraid of disappointment
i'm just afraid of never knowing
and i've never been so afraid to ask for more

i don't mean to sound this way
but yes i am this way
and i detest it; i avoid it whenever i can
sigh.

courage where are you.

Recovery

I have been a riotous liver
Been living the carpe diem religion
I don't wanna have regrets but I do
Everything's been whizzing past me way too fast
Lost myself in hazy lights
Gotta sloooowwww dowwwwnnnnnnn
Like do something that's worth my pain, worth my courage
Like counting the seconds as I watch how hard and how fast I fall
Sing the same songs you sang when you were a little girl
Humans never learn do they