Life is grand, a hundred of those to be exact. Motivation, a life on the other side of the world, no supervisor, a bit of money, a cute girl smiling, confidence and an appearance you love seeing in the mirror.
Doubt, struggle, annoyance and nervousness. It’s still that same depressed individual. The money will eventually run out, the confidence doesn’t translate into action often enough, all that’s being had is senseless and loveless sex and the bags under the eyes are filled with sorrow.
I’m okay with this life. I dislike this life.
How to turn it all around? How to maintain that positive mindset? How to comprehend that I’ll have to do it all by myself? How to not free fall in the pit of self pity? How to keep up that fighting spirit? How to feel okay?
No voice on the other side of the line. There is no answer. Merely ways to attempt to improve.
This night is stupendous. Surrounded by numerous people, meeting new acquaintances, hearing new stories, stealing new glances from seductive eyes.
This day is dreadful. Alone in an empty apartment with a head full of depressing room mates. No sun rays in this mental maze of obscurity and cancerous thoughts. For some uplifting verses I’d recommend changing the station.
Oh those delicious big lips. They could swallow me whole. I’d let them if she’d let me. I look and listen. She possesses superpowers. She manages to do the impossible: her intellect surpasses her physical appearance.
Oh these dry lips, that unshaven face and eyes that barely manage to hide the anger and frustration. The blue in them a distraction manoeuvre for the pupils. The black portals to a personal hell.
Dressed in all black. ‘Slick Vic’, yeah right, that’s what it’s for.
An arm around my shoulder, some words of interest for my writing and a question about the tattoos. “Thanks, man. You’re a cool person as well. And yes, we should definitely hang out soon.” A drink? Just this once. Fuck it, why not?
It’s all colourful. Pink, brown, white. Top it off with the blue to soothe the blues. Pill shaped solutions in a nightstand. Salvation on its way. Save yourself. Mister of Nazareth is busy getting drunk on water after a magic trick.
The people singing, that angel smiling. Sweet Spanish words from the sweetest. Tequila for me, a hand on mine. I look in those eyes that could hold our future.
Voices quiet down, the devil grinning. No words nor letters, merely missed calls and voicemails. A mind that zones out. Long nights and a short life.
The night ends, the people smile. They wave goodbye that happy man.
The night starts, I close the blinds. I wave goodbye that happy man.
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A suicidal man’s journal is getting a make-over soon. Stay tuned!