I had one of the roughest days in recent memory not too long ago. It was a real struggle. A real mental struggle, a real physical struggle. The whole day I felt on the edge of insanity, sometimes I was not sure I hadn’t crossed over. My mind went in a million different directions at the same time, it was impossible to keep track of. As an image it would have resembled a twisting black ball of oil; spurting, contracting, imploding and twisting at high speeds. Throughout the day I wrote thoughts down as they came to me. I stopped writing when I picked a platonic girlfriend up from her house; she stopped me thinking the thoughts that I was writing down. She replaced them with thoughts of arctic wolves, oranges, hair and bullying. So anyway, I decided to share those dark thoughts with you because you’ve probably thought similar things. If you haven’t, but you are human, one day you will think similar things. And fuck it, it’s nice to know you’re not the only one.
Progressive musings from a hard day:
I’m an idiot for ever thinking I would love you for the rest of my life. When we were together I saw so many similarities between us. Since we’ve broken up I’ve noticed nothing but differences. Big, gaping differences. You don’t know what it’s like to wear someone else’s shoes. All you want is what’s best for you and don’t bother trying give me your bullshit, give it to someone else, it’s wasted on me. You can’t change with words what I now know to be true regardless of language. Don’t fall in love kids. I hate you. I contemplate suicide once, not thinking about how it would feel but wondering how everyone would react. What would people say about me at my funeral? Would the people who I’d told my funeral songs to remember what they were? I’d jump from a tall building. I wouldn’t shed a tear if you did it. I keep seeing things, I don’t know if they’re real or not. Broken. Alone. There’s a horrible, twisted demon inside me. I smile and laugh at my fortune. I deserve so much better, yet I’m terribly embarrassed. Friends will be whispering about it all right now and not many of them have the whole picture. I realise that without the details they’re missing, I look like a bad guy. Fuck it. I can’t control it; it’s all out of my control.
And then I brought her back to my studio where we listened to records (she played her first ever!) drew each other pictures, wrote stories, doodled and talked about the whole stupid universe until 2am. After 2am we spent an hour wrapped up, breathing on each other and occasionally asking questions to see if the other was still awake. Then we fell asleep and I know I had a big old smile inside me.