my fingertips are trembling above the keyboard.
with every letter, I feel myself like I’m closer to death.
…I admit…instead of searching for death in any other place on this planet and make myself a favour really, I continue searching for my death in you.
no human on earth can represent your death, but as insane as it may sound, I feel you as both the sweetest and the most torturous way of dying.
”can you please console me?”
I was so ready to send you this message, without giving it too much thought. so ready to press the ”send” button, looking in whatever other direction than starring at my phone.
I would have chosen to look through the empty bottle of strawberry cider. it was there, standing bashfully on the table in the livingroom, sparkling in the light of a vintage telly, which was purring in his own way, set on a rock music channel, with its volume turned to the minimum.
my fingertips have been hesitating for more than a few minutes now. minutes that seemed like hours…
I knew I wouldn’t be able to do this, but I found it masochistically pleasurable to provoke myself in going all the way in order to achieve even the silliest goals I’ve ever had.
I cannot help but laugh at how naive I can be to believe that you must represent the right person to understand my agony at the moment.
you could never resonate with the strong emotions of those around you…
I guess I just had way too high expectations as far as you’re concerned.
and I’m sorry…