Your such a turd. 

Yes. I am dream-girl. 

I can love you like the sky bends over.

And still experience the sun kissing my feet.

Whatever you do to me.

I decide what it means.

Oscar ending

"I dont love you anymore." 

I wonder what you wanted me to do 

Or possibly say.

There was no script

Or cue beforehand.

Next time, remember to give the heads up.

Some clues to the crime.

 symptoms of the sickness in your heart.

Bread crumbs to doom.

Or at least a freaking text. 

What was the closure you wanted?

Was it,

Maybe:

"Okey?"

Posibly: 

"I understand."

Or you would expect some drama from me?

Something like,

"Get in a car and die!"

Give me a knife and I will show you an ending. Ha ha. 

But I, 

ever stubborn, ever naive, 

went with the oscar worthy ending:

"So what?

  I love you forever."

And ever and ever. 

Forever.

2 seconds.

It took you 2 seconds.

Like literally. Its insane.

"Write some more."

God. I feel so loved.

Many people

I can miss many people.

I miss my demon.
Especially when I am too happy being distracted by small comforts that continue to paralyze me. No one but my demon can pull me back to harsh reality.

I miss my enemy. The chaos.
When all is content and a boring set of the same tune. Since I cant fight myself. I need someone to warn me of my danger. To make me move.

I miss sadness. And anger.
Because soft spoken honest words arent enough to tell you what its like to feel this intense, inside.

And yes I do miss you. You and hatred. I miss how you convinced me to be insane and fearless and full of volume.

Even if it meant I could never be me again.

Honesty.

I want honesty.
But I dont know what is the right thing to do with it. Because everything you say makes me do something.

Like when you once said to me you dont read poetry or abstract artistic writing.

You were not trying to hurt me. You were being honest. I know that. I believed it with all my heart. The intent was pure.

I was not.

I just couldnt help feeling trapped by my own nature. By my own self being.

I want to be like ground and machinery. All solid and quiet. And content with what is. But its hard to make the sky fall. To keep a bird still. To close the lid on these feelings.

To stop writing. Like this. Again. 

Isolated

We would like to think we are wiser and above all these teenage hippy trends that share their love to the world. Thats so immature, we say. Those are show offs, we say. They wont last like we will, we say.

Little did we realize, our isolated happiness, turned into my isolated sorrow.

Since no one knows we exist.
No one knows what I feel right now either.

The silence has been amplified threefolds. So much for being "above it all"... and now I am the fool below.

I am the fool below.

Myself.

Its quiet. Again like in the beginning.

I dont know how to write or draw.

I dont know how to be myself in this blog anymore.

Kharissu

Shush.
Dont complain. You stupid girl.

Dont open it and let it out.

You stupid stupid girl.

Today

I dont know about the future or tomorrow. If this is something I will regret or change my mind.

All I know, is today. Its nice to only think about the present and forget yesterdays. As all yesterdays were chained to many other yesterdays.

And today can just be today.

Today, I've wished like I have never before wished. With a sense of passion and pride. I wish I could be writing to you letters, pages, books that would tell you... and you alone.

You would read them all. With every letter, sentence and phrase. Bit by bit. It would let you know. Today, tomorrow, maybe for the rest of your life.

It would tell you
and make you smile. 

White

I wiped myself clean.

Isn't that what you wished? What you hoped in the end?
That I keep myself away in silence. Shut up and move away.
Fade and turn to only white.

Forget, you scream. Turn off, you said.

Cleaned and pure and just not full of me any more.

---
Without me, I can only be you now.
So you can live.

In this white white space.