Charles and his real life.

I tend lo link myself to the past most of the time, putting myself into a vicious cycle is almost impossible to escape from, but those chains that tie my to the past are way stronger than my will to build a good future and present as well. 

Right now, in this lost point in time, I am only able to see a spark along the tunnel I feel stuck in, and that spark is only misguiding me from what I really should be working on. I feel like this spark is only a force to a paradise I believe I need, but as well it is the certain way to lose my head, and myself. 

Whatever feelings I’m letting room for within my tired loins are surely consuming me slowly, in a way that, feels like a pleasure being eaten to death, but a pleasure that falls in the splattering of blood all over white walls that cannot be clean to a funeral white again. 

My feelings are something I’m capable of writing about, but the thing I write about them ends up being a pure cliched-mosaic of Hollywood’s purest box office movie, still I believe in my feelings, and will continue endlessly to write on them, even if my words turn to lies at some unknown point, but that’s what artists do mostly, lie. 

I’m wandering around the main topic of my prose, but definitely I’m certain that the point is just bullshit I’m going to cry on whenever I come back. But well a man’s gotta have something to mourn within his poor tear-poured soul, doesn’t he? 

Mine is just going to be filled with the saddest thoughts about the men and women I’ve loved for my short life, and the way they continuously keep on unloving me, like it was some kind of sport they could become masters on. 

I gotta tell you that I love feeling the pain within me. That’s all. And these written links will connect me, some sooner, some later, to the enjoyable pain of being hurt by the past. 

Today I went down a blue valley where depression is the main character. 

I still don’t know how this happens, but I happen not to question it since this blue sadness goes fine on me, most of the times. Just when no blood rivers roll down my arm or leg, just after I’ve cut myself because of the feeling of shame and lust. 

I miss my life before everything went so wrong as it is. I miss watching my little young Jack smile at me whenever he found out I was staring right into that cute little face that reminds me of the child that lives inside of him, even to this day. 

I miss feeling brand new everyday, like something great was going to happen without any expectation. But those unwanted feelings that were there making me feel greatly lucky are now dead and gone to somewhere I am not able to go.

I walked home, and Henry was there walking by my side. But surely I felt empty, like I’ve always felt. Maybe it is me the wrong one, the one that screws everything up when it is about to go amazingly good. Had I known I would feel this way now, I’d likely wouldn’t have taken the steps I took.

All of my feelings are mixed up in a mosaic unreadable, unknown, and unwillingly to be read by others. 

Within me I perceive in everyone’s faces an unpleasant common sensation of fallen grace when they look at me. And I can make this go away. 

The love, all of it, is just something to mourn. 

And whenever feel I know where to go. 

Honestly, I don’t even know how to begin this. It feels surreal, life feels fragile, and like in a moment I could fall and break to a million pieces I’d be never able to put back together. 

You know, it feels really weird, being myself is the weirdest thing I’ll ever face. 

Before coming here and pour most of the thoughts I’ve had in the past 2 months, I hesistated and certaily I’ve quite a bunch of reasons to. Things in my real life have gone worse. I honestly thought that things were to work out as the movies picture, but they didn’t. 

Instead they twisted, and choked me. I guess it’s part of maturing. and learning, but these ways are too hard for me to face, I’ve gone to that thought again, of taking my life away, and put myself to sleep for a long nap I will never wake up from. 

I’ve built my world using people as bricks, since I thought these people surrounding me were going to stay strong and tall through everything that could come across our way. I believed it was the best way I could build an empire, but I was quite wrong to put my faith in that thought.

I hurt people, I did. I can live with my mistakes, but I apologized too. Nevertheless my apologies were ignored nor took in account. I’m sad, and my world crumbled down. I’ve cried every day ever since the incident. No one can really make me feel right. 

And I will do this until I can live again in another town, another city.

I’ve tried so hard to make myself believe that is enough just to write about the things and don’t talk about them at all. I wonder now if it’s worked for me. I’m so deeply broken right now, too many things happened on the weekend, things I will not heal from easily. And it is hurting me so bad.

Jack hates right now, and it hurts. But also he added Henry in the social networks he has an account on. I said to Jack when he asked me about him that they could go together if he wanted, and it is not okay, because it is killing me inside. Killing me slowly and softly, enjoying the pain it causes me. 

I cannot think of anything else in the meantime, I don’t know what to expect. 

I’ve prayed so hard for a sign, and the sign came. 

I dreamed last night and there was a song constantly playing in my dream. It was P!nk’s Try. It is a no-give-up anthem, and probably that what I should do, but I’m confused on what I shouldn’t give up on. I believe it is me, I should give up on me, whether I’m so hurt, I’m gonna recover. 

I cannot do anything about what’s bound to happen, because if these things are meant to happen, they will happen, and no matter how much I try to stop them from becoming a reality, I won’t be able to. 

I have to work on myself and be stronger for all of the things that will happen. 

If Jack stops talking to me, well that’s his choice, if he can’t forgive me for something he believes I did but I never did, it is okay. 

I cannot stop him from doing whatever he thinks it’s the best. 

“Jack is…” the sentence was slaughtered by the horn of another car, I knew where she was heading, the mom of one my classmates. “He’s a little queerly” and I knew exactly the way she was meaning those words she let out. 

I’ve heard those words before about him, and I’ve always known that the definition they claim to use from that words goes further from its true meaning, which is weird. They mean it in a faggot-alike word. 

And though he has attitudes that don’t stand for a man, and I know too many things about him, I still find disrespectful when people refers to him that way, maybe it is because of the fact that I love him utterly, but even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t like people calling him out that way. 

Because if he is a homosexual, they are only making him afraid of coming out. although he was, he wouldn’t be in love with me, nor like me a little bit, and I cry over it, but I think it is a good thing. I’m going to find someone someday, and if I don’t I’m gonna be as lucky as I am today. 

:)

The odds were almost impossible to be against me again, but unfortunately they were, and on the saturday night I found myself lying against the cold ground, crying intensely, bravely, because once again my heart had been broken exactly by the precise last time.

By this point it shouldn’t hurt the way it does right now, but it does, maybe it does because I wasn’t expecting to meet against the odds that broke my heart one time last year. 

I’m writing, and tears stream down my face. The wind is blowing through the window, and it makes feel every single of this honest tears ice cold. I feel like I have been put down to the dirt against, I feel the universe telling me that being loved in return is something I wasn’t made for. I feel like I’m the one who is supposed to carry his heart-breaks all over the way, and the one that will never get the happy ending.

Although the stories that have happened previously didn’t end up in happy endings, it doesn’t change the fact of I’m so unlucky. I should start picking up every single of the pieces of the broken heart I have left since saturday night. I should, I know I should, but it’s been impossible not to mourn over my dead-alive love. 

I love and give everything even I don’t have a thing with the one I am in love with at the time, but this is precisely the way I have learnt to love people, giving myself all at once, giving the heart always in the best of the ways. 

And I will continue to do it, because even if I have gotten my heart broken a couple of times, there I will find some person on my road, that I will love, and she or he will love me back, and if I’m lucky enough maybe she or he will love me back in a more intense way.

I have left the love consume me, burn me up to a red-burning flame, control every of my bones, and talk by every centimeter of my skin. And for that, I don’t regret a thing. 

I feel broken strings within me, I feel them. 

I have felt them before, but somehow this time there is something so different in this particular heartbreak, like I feel a little part of me being rotten, I feel it growing to something that cannot be cured. A black bruise that is starting to run all over this body of mine. 

It feels like that, it feels like a mosaic of broken feelings put together not fitting one with each other, and crashing one with another making it hard to heal.

I cannot look at him without feeling all of this. Since it happened my heart races whenever that thought comes to my mind, and since that thought it’s all that has been on my mind, my heart is at the edge of the heart-stroke. 

Right now, I don’t know how to be. I will know someday again, maybe soon, maybe so far away from this day. And it might feel like I’m exaggerating, but the love in me works this way, it runs from zero to a thousand miles, and it crashes through a wall exploding, and then I need to pick it up again and show the best of my faces. 

Jack broke my heart, and that’s all.

It is extremely weird to find myself moved by the slightest of his gestures, which could be meaningless to him, instead for me, they mean way too much. Last night was one of those night that will remain in my memory till the end of times. 

And somehow it could be myself exaggerating the moments that went down last night, because likely I do, but my mind is something I can’t control, and unleashes itself in a way that I get hurt, for how many feelings it lets out. 

For example, the last couple of days I have been willing to write in here, I’ve had too many thoughts of Jack coming down my brain lately, words are there waiting to be written, but somehow I’m afraid of them. 

I love him. I am able to say it without holding back any regrets or buts. 

Despite I love him, I know deep down in my heart, that I shouldn’t, but I don’t know how not to love someone this much it hurts. I just don’t. And I’m glad I don’t.

Because I am grateful to be one of those special people in the world who are able to channel utterly themselves through loving other people, which in my opinion is something too hard to get, and I honestly feel blessed by have given that gift, the gift of loving.

With Jack is different. There are many things I could list why I shouldn’t like him, things that I personally hate, but those things are meaningless when it comes to how much I need him, and the random touch he gives me every once in a while, the way he smiles and looks like a million dollars, the beard he lets grow every week which makes him look hotter than he already is, the way he speaks gracelessly but lovely, his messy hair like the wind just traveled through it, the way he doesn’t care about too many things but at the same time he can’t stop thinking about them. 

All of this, resumes in him. He’s got everything I hate and everything I love. 

Even though he is mean to me most of the time, and I can sense it in the air, but the shade of me that loves him is way stronger than the one that could hate him. 

Jack, along with Charlotte, Anne, and Frank form, what I’d like to name, The Secret Four. Although they could be all, but secret. They are the best friends, and everything. The kind of clique you’d see on a movie, sticking around together and telling each other’s secrets, and also backstabbing when no one is looking. That is who they are, they are supposedly exclusive.

At the beginning of the clan, I was closely to be upset over not being included in the group. It sadden me, because at least three-quarters of the four are my best friends. But Jack, he is certainly the close-minded guy, who feels threatened if someone else is allowed in the circle. Though, I don’t know why he feels this particular way, when I am not looking to do any of this to him. I love him just as much as I love anyone who is in my life. That is surely, a lot.

The problem here, or what I could that bothers me, is the fact that this four-people group has been doing their activities more evident, and absolutely feels they do it in purpose, just for the outsiders to feel what it’s like not to be in that group, bring sort of negative feelings upon the outcasted. 

It is a heavy charge, they shouldn’t do this, but they do, they are in their utter rights to do whatever they yearn to. I am no one to blame them, but I’d rather them to do all of their secret activities, precisely secret.

I am not feeling bad nor sad, nor evoking negative feelings within myself about this particular herd. It is pretty much okay what they want to do with their lives, only I don’t want them to mess up each one’s friendships with me because of the clique. 

I’m being quite thoughtful lately, yes, more than I usually am. I fear this in some kind of way, because I’ve felt the weight of the world over my shoulders for a while now, and maybe I’m overreacting as I always do, but I am crying almost everyday, and I know it is not right to cry this much in such a long while now. 

But I’m thinking mostly of the good things, and preparing myself for the next month, which is a big deal for me. I’m looking forward to it.