4. 12. 2025
Una distesa di rovi viola in mezzo al prato ghiacciato, mi ricorda il modo in cui le vene si diramano sulle palpebre e sui polsi pallidi. Non esiste niente, niente in questo pianeta che abbia motivo di essere tanto bello.
Vorrei sapere come si sente un bambino piccolo che vede per la prima volta un cane pastore.
Quest'anno il freddo non mi da fastidio.
29. 11. 2025
i don't even know how to distract myself from this burden in my chest anymore. figured i'd try writing my ache out, but there's nothing much to say either.
i want to know what it's like to be normal.
i started obsessing about this again months ago: a couple of friends and my boyfriend fell asleep on the couch late at night as we were watching courage the cowardly dog, and as that disgusting heavy feeling in my heart started coming up, i tried sticking by their side just a little longer but i couldn't bring myself to do it. so i got myself up and thought the same exact thing i did just minutes ago: maybe i can just write this out and then i'll feel okay. i stumbled over to the table and started detailing my pathetic thoughts as the blue tv glow lit my friends, snuggled under the blanket side by side, sleeping to cartoons. seeing them like that reminded me of myself as a child. staying up until 3 slouched on my desk, alone, watching the spectacular spiderman, ninja turtles, and the same repeat episodes of those shit low budget cartoons they only played late at night. trying to make sense of the way time moved so fast yet so slowly. days melting together without me being even able to notice, yet the nights always felt endless. thinking about it now, i don't know how i managed to be so lonely for so long, how i coped with that heartache you get when everything is quiet and being awake is not much different than being asleep. i could do it at nine years old, but somehow i can't do it now at twenty one. which is why that night, while everyone was sleeping, i dropped the pen at some point and started choking up, i cried until the last episode of courage was done, and then i cried some more, trying to be quiet. i'd like to think that my friend who got up first, didn't wake up because of me that night. i wiped my tears and snot and sat by the window lighting up a cigarette, he stood next to me without saying a word, rolling his own. this time i was the one who reminded me of my own self as a child. sniffling between cigarette drags, pretending he wasn't aware that i was crying, wishing he would say something but not actually wanting to talk. needing a hug is a disgusting feeling. cause once you get that hug it doesn't fix shit, nor does it make you feel even the slightest bit better. we just smoked next to each other looking at the street behind us.
that night i realized that even when there's nothing bad going on on the outside, my mind is always working to make my life a living hell. i could have normal days. i could even have fun, maybe, i always pretend i do. i could be happy cause sometimes things just go well for you, even for the most unlucky. but i realized even when things are going well for me, i've always been fucking miserable. ever since i was just a kid. i shouldn't have had death on my mind all the fucking time. i should have been normal. why can't i just be normal? i want to enjoy life. i want to be happy. i want to be around people without faking. without being in my head, or having to try and ignore the voice in the back who tells me horrible things all the time. this is when i start sounding like an insufferable perpetual victim of myself. but why? why me?
i feel like there's something wrong with my brain. biologically. the more i age, the futher it's rotting inside of my skull.
why couldn't i be born normal?
