Daterat: Måndagen den 7:e maj 2007 kl 09:02
I now am so very tired of everything and everyone.
However there are some few lights around me, people mostly. Especially one, however I don't know really what to make of it all.
Doesnt matter, as long as I can be happy for a while, having someone to talk to that is as nerdy as me. That makes me happy. Very happy.
I told you:
Be careful. Dreams are like thin crystal bubbles: they shatter so easily.
(Oh I so loved bubbles when I was a kid: translucid and sleek, you could see what was inside but could never touch it; even if most of the time it was only transparent air, I imagined they were ”beings” inside and I drew them compulsively. They could see their exterior but could never be a part of it. The outside world was aware of what the interior kept, but would never damage it).
Clumsy hands of mine, out of curiosity I had to touch those beautiful spheres...! I never meant to break those fine bubbles, I swear.
I only wanted the beings to be a part of this world... But ”they” were too delicate to deal with it properly, and now, they are sick forever and will die soon (dirty world and its diseases, ”they” didn’t had any antibodies... There is a reason for everything, and the glass coverings had a specific function).
"I am sorry. I am so sorry".
Lost in this reality whom they were only meant to watch, I tried to guide them back into their protective cases by picking up the pieces and reconstructing the crystal spheres, but, the only thing I got was cuts on my hands.
Now "they" walk by filthy streets covered in my blood. They are completely lost, and won’t last for long. No matter how quick I ran after them following the red drops of liquid they leave after their footsteps, eventually my wounds will pour out all the blood that is left within me.
But I do not fear death now.
This loss I cannot overcome: I deserve this lonely death because I am the guilty one.
My stained children have left me forever, and now I only count the days until this punishment ends.
En este laberinto solipsista mis únicos compañeros son estos recuerdos los cuales día a día destruyo en el ritual compulsivo de la búsqueda del placer y del olvido.