Hi everybody, I'm O and I'm närhetsbenägen. "HI O!"
Guess we're all here to deal with our problems right? Fight to try and find a common cause. And tell ourselves we're not stuck in a Ferris wheel of perpetual sins.
My name is O. that is not my real name. Most importantly, to remember who I'm supposed to be.
Have some H.P. Lovecraft:
Invading a lethal silence of centuries
Exciting the envy of a Doré
Washing the base of a Cyclopean monolith
Grotesque beyond the imagination of a Poe or a Bulwer
Reminiscences of Paradise Lost
An ancient cemetary; so ancient that I trembled at the manifold signs of immemorial years
Rei Kawakubo. Library books. Inspiration. Reading. Tokyo street style.
Finding myself reading everything but the schoolwork. All these works calling out to me and I have to listen, and I take them down from the shelves, and I take them home like secret lovers, hiding them in my bed. And late at night, I take them out and turn the pages, letting the pleasure enfold me. The stories. Beneath my skin.
In the summer heat - as I look back. What will it be next summer? Walking in winter rain, is that depression? Tips you further away. In the coffin where you sleep. Twilight - that fictional love of eternity. suffocating choices lead you to a chasm - will I stay or take a plane? will i work up the money needed or will i take a chance. follow your heart. i don't know where it is. put your heart where your mouth is. where is it? where did O's heart go? rerouted the blood, to my skin instead, stay shallow and hot, there's no need to be pathetic is there. oh, i made another trouble man, oh man, im in trouble again. feel terribly small when my head works to hard. hardly capable of half the damage that i would like to do. Just like me. So who the hell are you?
Am I just another scene from a movie that you've seen a hundred times? Probably. The story is the same, I just personalized the name. Girls make boys cry.
Just like a picture on the wall, among hundreds. What is supposed to come first? And when the focus slips and the picture turns blurry, what will become of it? Embrace me and I'll brave my lost heart for you. No, none of it's true. I wanna be next to you, for my head. The wrong assumptions we make every day, finding truth in the hugs. The truth of it is. There is something I want to be, and I will make my way there. And I will have my future.
without forgetting about the journey
When the lights are dim. when thinking about hungry fingers and heart racing, exchanging body heat in the passenger seat. teen hearts beating faster faster. running short of time. the mask goes off, the make-up is flaking. messy hair caught in a cider spring, holding tight on to a drink. swaying and focusing, hands, lips, synced and working, into the cake, right there on the table in front of all the guests. and the stilettos break, and the dress slides down, revealing half a breast, and there she looks up, her eyes second to the right and straight on til morning. the afterglow of the afterparty. it slips, it slips, and it's gonna fall, on the floor. and it's gonna be a mess, a mess, and nothing can stop it. and there it is, but it isn't. it was just imagination.
I'm reading maths - in a sort of bohemian way. I avoid the book, I wont even open it, I just think about how much I have to do. Then I like disregard it. Then I force myself to do ONE out of the thousand problems I still have left. Then I get bored of it, try to not think of it and walk away. The more I try not thinking about math, the bigger the angst cloud that surrounds me. So I guess, this is the end. I will have to try. Bye for now.
