A letter to you, sweetheart…

It’s funny how I let you take control over me, as so.

It’s beautiful, love.

How you torture me so, with these games you play.

This agony you put me through, playing with my darkest, deepest rooted fears and insecurities.

Treading on my dreams.

You don’t even realize it.

You don’t know what this side of the garden looks like, dear.

You never have, you never will.

What being insane feels like… what seeing life as poetry in motion feels like. And bear in mind please, that poetry isn’t what you – or everyone else thinks it is.

Hallmark cards don’t have anything to do with poetry, love.

I can try to take my time and teach you all of this. Teach you how the world works. Maybe you could’ve seen how my head works. My mind, that probably shouldn’t do so much work.

But I guess you don’t really want any of this, darling.

You never did, you never will.

I’ll just weep to this letter then, sugar.

A simple prop to occupy your time – is what I feel like I’ve always been.

But you don’t see that, babe. You never did, you never will.

Forgive me for all those times I never called, or wrote back. Something always came up.

I told you about my condition, right? So many times, I keep forgetting. But I’m sure to mention it to everyone, every time I meet them.

Rest assured, love.

All the scars on my wrists, only prove I’ll try again, love.

Ever since I became dude.

I still remember. I always will.

Don’t ask me why my hands are so cold, love.

Or why I crave to die so much, all the time.

Or why I crave to kill myself so much, all the time.

All the dying is spiritual, mental. It takes place several times a day, love.

All courtesy of you too, love.

You’re a part of my world, love. As joyous as that sounds.

My world is like a blurry picture, of a picture, of a picture, love.

And he keeps assuring me he’s only playing. But I keep telling him I still smell you on him, love.

Why would you do such a thing though? It’s all I’ve ever wanted to know.

Why. Why, much more than how. How is … subjective, as you so innocently put it, babe.

You mean the world to me. I thought I should let you know somewhere in between here. Always and forever.

Only you, love.

But I can’t get myself to forget to ask why… and I can’t forgive myself for it either…

So, won’t you be my sugar plum and write back to me please? Please tell me why, love.

Just once?

I’ll just sit and wallow with myself until then. You can watch if you want… you have a habit of doing just that, love…

I won’t beg to have your fingers run through my mane again.

Just let me float in nothingness forever, please?

I don’t see why you didn’t just let it happen to begin with.

I mean, why poke the pond for no reason? I was just laying there, calm, with no cares in the world.

Except for the worry of myself. The worry I’ve carried for so long. So long, love.

So long, and goodbye.

I’m sorry for most of it, I suppose. Isn’t that what you’ve been expecting for so long, love?

It’s not like you ever really wanted anything more.

I’ve kneeled. I hope you’re happy now, love.

Played my part, I guess.

I didn’t ever feel bad tossing cigarette buds to the ground after I was done with them.

Why should you?

Don’t sweat it, babe. I’ll be perfectly fine, cut up and a mess.

Served cold.

As cold as this winter, love. Or the winter we had together. Where I couldn’t have withstood being out in the cold, if it wasn’t you I was out for.

Or that time you put me to sleep, and I couldn’t believe my sheer luck. It got me regretting not believing in luck.

Poetic justice, love.

It all is. It always has been, it always will be.

I’m going to stop talking now, love. I just wish I could do it while you were in front of me.

But you wouldn’t want any of this, anyway…

I hope you still did, but you don’t…

I mean… at least I got to see you smile from so close…

An attempt at audacity.

Public Service Announcement.

Deactivated my facebook today.

Hopefully/probably for a good while.

I realized, I wasn’t really gaining anything from it. All it was doing was help the cause of the stupid. All it did was piss me off. A lot.

All it did was help the world use me against me.

So, I’m good without it. Hiatus.

Thank God for like, Skype, and Tumblr and Blogger and stuff. And MSN and Aim.

Hit me up wherever instead of facebook. I mean, if it’s really important, you’ll know where to find me, right?

Right.

Some things I risk.

I think I might be undergoing a life crisis, or something of the sort. I mean, let’s slow down things for just a little while.

I’m still couch surfing. Even if the term doesn’t technically apply, it’s still more couch surfing than anything else. So.

Also, I have 25 dollars left in the account, again. I’m broke again, yup. Twice in a month. Hidden bank fees and gluttony combined with a little old fashioned and traditional Danish carelessness is how I got here.

Last but not not the least; college is going to be the end of me.

With all this and much more happening all at the same time, I’m having a very hard time recollecting everything. Comprehension is as far as I’m willing to go at the moment.

Why risk being just another opinion on the internet anyway?

Wait… Never mind.

One giant leap for insanity.

I may just be paranoid, but to be honest, I am panicking.

And it’s not cool.

It’s actually pretty depressing. Just so bound by being human, it’s not nice anymore.

Just because no one will ever get it. It’s too hard to explain to people. Takes too much time and effort. There will never ever be anyone like that. I’m not being pessimistic, just stating facts.

It’s so hard already, to live with the burden of being labeled a label. Just to really think about it, even. It’s such a disgrace. One you and I created and decided to play along with for all these years. Not knowing what it was really doing. But what can you do, really, you’re just so bound by being human. By the time you develop any real cognitive abilities, it feels like it’s too late.

Blue on blue, heartache on heartache.

An eye for an eye. It’s a viscous cycle, but even that name isn’t as demeaning as it should be. It’s something so hard to describe. It’s our system. It’s you and I.

You are so bound by it. Just by being you. It’s sometimes the knowing that’ll drive you up a wall. I know this because it’s what got me here.

Being one step ahead, sure. But what does that put you closer to? I would want to make sure I’m not trying to keep running, just for the sake of being ahead.

If it’s not that, then it’s the never ending quest to figure out what it is. Just the drive to the park. The destination doesn’t stay as important anymore, the journey takes it’s place. Because that’s what life ultimately becomes.

At least that’s what I’ve seen on the walls of this pit I fell into. I’ve been constantly tumbling at the same speed, downward spiral and all. And I get to see the craziest shit on my way down, it’s sad – but in a hilarious way.

The source of all this insanity, if you may. There is obviously something wrong with this head, for it to function so dysfunctional. I probably am just a sociopath.

Why can’t you just realize that and give me a break?

Calm before the storm.

Twisted Nerves

I thought I knew who I was when I fell asleep. I must have changed multiple times until then. Then I woke up, and now I don't know who I am.

I would try to explain to you how it feels, but I can't. It's not that I'm at a loss of words. I just don't know where or how to start. Or where it ends.

Maybe I'm just in no position to be steering any ships.

If I stand still, I'll feel the crumbles fall to my feet. Make sure I'm falling apart, and it's not just in my head.

And it's so cold, that the wind just cuts through skin, like a blade. It's so hard to tell if there are any clouds or not, I'm missing all details with my gaze being so out of focus.

"A movie so crass, and awkwardly cast, even I can be the star."

I died a long, long time ago.

Oh no, not me, I never lost control.

You're face to face, with

The man who the world sold.

This is perhaps just an episode.

This is perhaps just a phase.

Perhaps, it's just a rut. That I'll walk out soon, and everything will be fine.

Maybe I won't ever, and things will just continue to come crashing down, like they always do.

Fall apart. Break into pieces. Crumble.

But where does it end, if it ever does? If it ever will.

It can't be my fault. I've been designed to be this way. If our experiences shape us, I've only had very fucked up experiences. I'd be willing to blame God for it, but what's the point?

Fearless leader.

Just a nice guy.

Nice on the deep down inside.

So deep down inside, there's a doubt any such thing even exists.

So I press my palms down hard against my forehead, hoping for the anxiety to stop. The will to self destruct to go away. The want to stop living to vanish.

The storm might not pass until my twisted nerves untangle.

Couch surfing.

According to UrbanDictionary.com:

A cheap form of lodging used mainly by college-students or recent college-grads, where one stays on acquaintance's couches rather than a hotel.

And that’s what I’m doing right now. And going to this park alot, that’s like the most wonderful place on earth for a lot of reasons.

I like life at the moment. It’s not bad at all. =]

Things are like, almost perfect. Still house searching and crap, but moving ahead. It’s just a slow pace, but progress is being made.

A lot else has been happening too, I just don’t know how to put it all to words. So I’m just going to stop trying for now.

Poetry, yeah.

I love how the wind feels so peaceful on a sunny day, when there's nothing to worry about.

I love the feeling of being completely free, and being blessed with freedom.

I love how your fingers are tall and slender, and just how I like them. Shaped like nature spent extra time to shape them maybe.

I love how your smile is a curve similar to a sun while it's setting or rising. It's just as beautiful too. Makes me warm too at the same time, isn't that funny?

And I love how everything makes me feel like a poet. Like I could write a book. Make your heart melt, maybe, make you imagine all my words in your head.

I love how you can pretend to be angry, and do such a good job at keeping it up. It's like you should be in the movies.

I love how you have these childish mood swings. Maybe it's because you are like a child after all. It's such an animal-like behavior, it's cute.

I hate how losing games is so harsh to both of us. It's like too much pride for both our shoulders to carry, but the game is so cruel. It must be played. I love how realizing it is relieving. I now feel certain that it's me flying this plane we're on. I'm the pilot, in charge. Just how I like it. And deep down inside how you like it too. How you've always liked it. It's a shame, but it's poetic justice that it's all so visible to me. You should just bask in the fact that you get to kick your feet up, and enjoy the ride.

It's funny, that my mind and my heart is a train wreck. My head refuses to ponder, or to play any silly games anymore. It's had enough it seems, and so has my other popular organ. Yes, that'd be my heart, I can use it in context, as an entity, when I feel like being poetic and maybe a little frivolous.

A poet.

Right?

I hold in my hands, all the lights, all the suns, all the flowers, all the trees, all the grass, and all the leaves. All the colors, all the stars, all the fairies, and all the ink.

To write history.