Funny or not, when I got numb I actually could feel something. That something is numbness, and it felt so good and familiar. A catatonic state that made me feel artistic as fuck, a baseline of sweet sadness underneath my skin, pretty much tangible at that point and me looking into the horizon. Maybe it wasn’t even a horizon, maybe there was a quick succession of footsteps on the sidewalk, late at night after work, in the cold of the winter time.
I feel so distant from that place now, that time was a time I felt many many things at once, and most of them were sad, angry, hopeless, but also thrilling and intense. I did enjoy every second of it though. In a way.
And every night l left work and went on dark lonely streets, looking to numb myself with the cold helping, I felt so many numb things. I cried many times walking, I got scared, I forgave people I have known, had imaginary talks, had daydreams, I realized I was not where I was supposed to be. I never am where I’m supposed to be, mainly because I do not know where that is, and I’m waiting for that place to hit me accidentally. This is why there are so many poor choices.
He made me draw things, and I never felt anything like it before. Also, there was no desire to make anything reality. I think I loved my imaginary infatuation at the time. Loved that dangerous life in my head that gave me visions and stopped my breath mid sentence.
He made me cry on my ways on the dark streets. Made me cry with remembering how much he hurt me at the time, and how I felt empty a long while after. I feel the cycle has ended since I stopped smoking. But there are other pains to not feel right now.
He made me so angry and sad, and made me imagine so many monologues that never saw the light of day. I knew deep inside and on the surface that nothing would pass through that thick skull. And that was so hurtful, I wanted to explain and show myself, and all there was in return was disgust, anger, hatred, contempt. How can you love someone and show them so much contempt. How can one be so evil and destructive. I read somewhere that you get over a relationship when you forgive that person. I will never forgive you for what you have been, and for what you made me become. I hope some day I will desire less of the same thing that you did to me. Until then, I hope you remain stuck In your same glorified pattern until you finally destroy yourself.
I tried to see what’s under the hood, under the skin, to follow the path into darkness. Never got to the end of it, I need someone to do that with I think. Maybe then I shall find myself.