When expectation ends, usually comes disappointment. Not this time. This time I do not care. And I feel good. And I endlessly listen to Life in Technicolor II.

The questions I might have now are rhetorical, and many others before me asked divinity the same questions. So I won’t ask. Because there is no answer. It simply is. Exists. A state of mind and body. A state we’re all in (except for the dead ones, of course, but they’re alive in our hearts).

I like subtle things. They are mysterious and make you think and make your heart beat faster. Subtle books are brilliant, so are subtle jokes. But sometimes I just need it straight forward. Say it and go! Or stay, if this is the case.

Oh well, maybe I should go and do something productive, like learn or draw or take a shower then sleep or whatever.

I want to go swimming. I long for the water. Almost like a fish. One who’s afraid not to drown. Still, underwater it’s just me and myself.  Total silence. And I need that. I don’t want to hear a sound. Anything. I want to feel the nasty chlorine in my nose and  the cold water prickling my skin, my hair around my face and the desperate need for some Oxygen.

Until then,

God help me tomorrow at school!

Love,

Roxo

I just came back.  And I’m afraid to look back. I had so much time this weekend. It was long and nice and … full, of meaning. And I’m afraid to listen to anything else than Dire Straits, or to go to sleep and wake up to this nasty world. I want to go on a two hour walk. And talk. About important stuff. Or don’t talk. And hear the silence. Not background silence, total silence. Feel the warmth of an early November night. Not caring about getting your shoes dirty.

It was a long weekend. Foggy and clear. New and old. Blurry and yet I could understand every inch of it. Every second.

I never tried or never thought I like walking so much. It’s such a peaceful thing to do. Without plugs in your ears. Me. Just me and the silence. And my two guardian angels.

—————-
Now playing: Dire Straits – Brothers In Arms
via FoxyTunes

It sends chills trough my spine. Remembering all of it. And I want to do it again. I would do it right now if I could.

But where would I find the peace and place to go walk such a meaningful walk? And with who? I am not myself here. Here, I am someone that tries to get other people to like me. What an useful life I’ve got!

The song is set on repeat. Sends me chills every time he says:

These mist covered mountains

Are a home now for me

And I don’t want to let go of it. I want to get somewhere where I can escape the myself I’m not. The bad, evil, tormented one. And forever be the one I really am inside. A “Me” I barely know: capable of love, empty, somehow, but with an immense space to fill. Unlike the small me, the full one, the one I know. The immune one: colorful, emotional, happy, the weak one, the mask. My mask.

There’s so many different worlds
So many different suns

So many different sides…

It’s written in the starlight

Even the November fog is walking to give you the perfect moonlight, the winter constellations, warmth.

There is no ending to this post. As there is no ending to my weekend, as you never stop being brothers after you no longer wear the arms. It remains there in your soul, written in the starlight…

Time is endless

Now playing: Keane – Broken Toy
via FoxyTunes Mood:  rainy

Yeah, gloomy like that

I am writing now partly because it’s been a long time since last time I did, and partly because I have something to say. I don’t know what yet, but there is a feeling inside me that I should say this.

So for the last few weeks, since school started, I kept a secret. It is a personal secret and I will not post it here. Okay, I will say it here but it sounds so childish and sweet-sixteenish! It’s about someone I like. And it feels so different now. Maybe because that someone has a girlfriend, or maybe because he answers to my pathetic stares while he is having another girl. It is weird, you know. It’s me, rather than her, “the other girl”, I have all the characteristics an “other girl” has:

First, I wasn’t there first, as if the guy was a prize, that’s so lame. Secondly, I am selfish and I don’t care about her and I really think they have been together for too long, it’s been over an year, I guess.

So, well, it happens that I catch myself  looking for him in the schoolyard,or I’m going outside just knowing he’ll be there smoking or chatting or laughing or whatever.

I don’t really even know why I like him. Maybe because he’s taller than me, and he has a really deep stare, and green eyes, and he shares my glances, and I even caught him looking at me when I wasn’t looking.Now I sound like a child falling in love for the first time. Still, it’s different now. Because it’s been six weeks, and I haven’t make any move, and I really do not plan to. Because I do not want to be a relationship breaker, the third one in the love triangle, I do not want to be the thief, no matter how big the price is.

I grew up. That’s not how I would have acted two years ago. Actually, that’s not how I actually did act.  I might have grown. It still doesn’t make me feel better.

I guess I’m the record you’re tired of
I guess we’re just older now
I guess I’m a toy that is broken
I guess we’re just older now

Yeah, I listen to Keane and Coldplay excessively, but it fits my mood just fine. Try listening to Keane’s Atlantic, or Coldplay’s Death and All His Friends.  Oh, and I tend to read a lot of Neil Gaiman’s Sandman, and learn too much. Senior year does this to you.

So, well, too much blabbering, I don’t feel better now that I talked about it,  and I still imagine him smiling at me. Pityful.

I look out for you
Come rain, come shine
What good does it do?
I guess I’m a toy that is broken
I guess we’re just older now

Just for you to know I'm not like this all the time,read my other posts.

//

This is it, here I am. I’m eighteen for  six days now. You though I’d be enjoying it. It just felt great for a day. I feel my responsabilities hanging over me. I can even see the ” You’re eighteen now” line waiting to explode out of my mom’s mouth.

Things I learned in this past six days:

1. Men are such idiots. Not all, of course, and not always. But they do not know how to keep someone they love once they have it.  Some of them are shallow, some are clean perverts. Some are too afraid to take the risks.

2. Love will save the world. Whoever said it for the first time knew what he said. Not the man-woman love though. This times, that kind of love is like glueing together two pieces of wood with jam. It’s sweet, it’s sticks the two pieces together. But not for a long time. And the woods root and the worms eat it. That’s not the love that’ll save the world. It’s the love we give. The love we show to the others. Mom tells us to get back home at eight, we do it, because we love her. My friend asks me to give him my favorite pen, even just jockingly, I give it to him, because I love him and I want to make him happy, and losing that pen isn’t calle dlosing because he has it and he is happy and it makes me even more happy.

3. You aren’t free when you do whatever you want. Au contraire. You are free when you do what other’s tell you. Because when you follow your will you are tied to it and so you are not free. But when you cut your will, and follow the others’, not just your parents’, your teachers’s, but everyone’s, then you feel free and peaceful.

4. Not caring is easy. I don’t care if my sister has a bad haircut. I don’t even look at her enough to notice her haircut, much less to think if she looks good or not. So when my mother asks, I don’t know what to say but: “I don’t care”. I don’t care about your problems, not even mine, I don’t care about anything. I’m sure this isn’t a good thing. But what should I do? Destroy my nerves crying over everyone? When you need help, I give you help. When you need me caring, I care. You don’t need to ask for it. I’ll just know when to give my attention and trust.

5. My core is rotten. And the only way to fix that is sweat.

6.  I don’t freakin’ know anything. At all.

7. Life shouldn’t suck. But as mine is now, I just wish everyone would let me alone and stop bugging me with their “let’s be happy” lines.

8. This is wrong. Something is wrong. And piano isn’t helping me anymore.