The Odd One Out.

conversations with ghosts

i am strangely awake at an hour i have become accustomed to be dead asleep by. if you ask me i will tell you i'm not sure why i'm still awake. but if i ask myself i think i might just have an answer. i am watching a football match of all things; i am surprised it hasn't put me off to sleep yet. i am not drunk; i am tired as fuck. i kept myself swimming for the best part of 2 hrs. i need something. i need my life back.

melbourne has dissolved me to bits. i am really struggling; as proud as i am, i am willing to admit this fact. i have lost myself. i am tired. mentally. i wish i had something to do that'd actually tire me intellectually. i feel stupid. melbourne has rendered me stupid. helpless. useless. senseless. all the waiting has rendered me impatient. jealous. incoherent. unpredictable (in a very annoying way). everyday i struggle to find my old self. somedays i catch a glimpse of it. i hang on to it for my dear life. by the time i go to bed i will have forgotten what i'm holding on to. hold on. it doesnt quite make any sense anymore.

most days i spend the day alone. i wander from room to room, sometimes wondering how i got to wander into these rooms, this place. i'd like my life back now, thank you. i'm a bit tired of living someone else's. as much as i love him. even when he doesnt go to work i'm still finding myself trying to fit myself into his life. maybe its me. maybe i cant stop myself. why cant he just stop me for me? some days he comes home and.. i still find myself alone. he's constantly tired; i chase after the ghost of him. make conversations with the ghost of him. he tells me i dont have to be down and lonely when he's around; i dont have the heart to tell him sometimes when he's around he's not actually there because he's always so tired. i'm left with the ghost of him. i dont know how to talk to ghosts.

some days it saddens me even more to go out. by myself. right now i dont know why. i may never have an answer. sometimes i welcome the part of being alone. i can do whatever i want. i did whatever i wanted just the other day, and i was told never to do it again. in that moment he had made me feel smaller than the world's smallest thing. like he owned me, and the house and the things i was supposed or not supposed to do. and i had let him do it. sometimes the things i do for love appall me as well. i'd like my life back now, thank you.

he loves me, i'd imagine thats what he'll say. but these days it just aint enough. what does that mean anyway? since when did love become just not good enough? its a look i suppose. the slightest touch. the subtle action of reaching for me and not letting go. don't let go, i'd always say to myself as if i could silently convey this to him as he reaches for me. but these days, by the time i finish that thought, he'd have already let me go. please stop making me chase the ghost of you.

forever. that's a word i believe to be incredibly naive but incredibly hopeful all at once. seem to have forgotten what it really means or what it really entails. it cannot be a happy thing. or place. or whatever it might mean or be. the most cynical people dont even believe in forever. i was cynical before. whats become of me? is forever something you do, or is it really something you live, something you live to deal with? forever, is definitely not certainty. forever will probably end very ugly; it will probably be filled with so much sadness one simply just doesnt know how to deal with.

some say forever is the big picture. big picture cannot live without the small pictures. please dont humour me with big pictures anymore. maybe i'm just not old enough not mature enough but i like to have my things small, present, tangible. one step at a time; one picture at a time please. mayb that way you might just find yourself at this place they call forever.

the football match is still on.

song of the hour: football
fact of the day: small pictures, please

posted by gerfrend @ 23:00