But maybe...

...I'm not dead yet.
💘

The Last of Days

Half thousand days have gone by since the last time I was laid. Stained in Red, couldn't be anyone else's...still his, the perfume fades on my ever since untouched skin.

A sad record.


Day 500. And it's so far I will count.
The numbers will keep flowing, tho. I'm just not sitting here watching it anymore. Counting the days  going down on a stream of tears.

500 days ago, I was loved...

Now the river ran dry.

It is what it is

What if I'm dead already, and my soul is damned to wait for the flowers you'll never lay on my grave...

😢

The Five Stages

This have always been my darkest side, somehow. Even in its best, it's still about what I have in me that I don't dare showing around. My deepest, dirtiest secrets. And sometimes, the blackest of my depression.

In sum: the person I wish I wasn't. But I am. For real.

I could open up about hell broke loose over my personal life. That's actually what I intended to do when I decided to post here again after this hiatus. But I'm afraid it just doesn't matter. Been whining here before. Nothing changed.

Well...something did.


Day 350. Life is so different now. My body is starting to show. And to feel the signs of every second that I wasn't aware that was escaping through my hands and would never ever come back. Talking about second chances (or third, fourth, thousand): there's nothing more unnatural than this. I know I won't be given a second chance.

"Regrets are for pussies, shit happens."
Hopefully, good things, too.