Yeah, we won the tournament this weekend. Well how fucking great.
Played all the matches, and half the final. why half the final?
Because I got a breakdown. How fucking nice.
Stood outside the door in my tiny shorts and smoked a lot. Crying.
Called my friend, she said something that provoked me.
That helped.
I know why...playing the final means involving much and a lot of sacrifice.
If you loose, that is bad. It was all for nothing.
At the time, because I'm afraid to get back to the "black hole" I was in before christmas... I watch myself. blabla.
Drank yestarday. I can't remember that much,
but jeah...feel like an idiot. Feel really bad now.
Feel insecure.
He talked a lot to a blond girl. I know her, she is a good friend of mine. But I really don't want her to know that much about me.
I'm not afraid he'll do anything to her. And I trust the blond girl. I do.
I just.. don't want him to tell her about me.
I know he does, she told me again.
(I wonder when he'll learn that I find out of things, anyway)
And he tells her what he should be saying to me, well, I feel that way.
He asked her what to do with me, that he was afraid to loose me. That I'm not eating.
(which btw is bullocks, I do eat, man!)
and why couldn't he tell me that? I would have felt better, and I could have given him exactly the same answer she did (because I must say, she answered pretty well).
the problem is, he does not believe me.
He does not believe anyone who tells him he is beautiful, has a good personality.
well, I don't either. thats our fucking main problem.
But at least I've decided to give this a try. Me and him.
and he can talk as much as he like to that blond girl. As long as he feels fine.
He can fuck her. I do care, but as long as he feels fine. I'm in for it.
I've decided to try with him, to not fuck things up like I used to because I rather feel good with him now, and get hurt later... then live in misary for a pretty long time, without him. Involving puts you in a good situation to get hurt... I know. I just, don't want to think about it...
I know all things he tried to before, always ended up shitty. (a friend of him told me that, yeah man, PEOPLE TALK!).
and I can't promise him I won't hurt him anymore.
actually, when I think about him, I can't promise that this won't end up shitty either.
But I promise that I love only him, and I won't do anything to anyone else.
I promise if he tells me that my actions hurt him, I would change them.
I promise that I'll be there for him, if he tells me.
But he don't.
And I can't read his mind, as he can't read mine.
he have to tell me. I rather get hurt of what he is saying..
I just want him to say something.
Yeah, the walls. He is sleeping in the guest bed.
I am tired, I just can't sleep.
So I'm drinking yestardays booze. hurray!
I just can't lie still. This is my house. I've lived here for all I can remember. And I remember. a lot.
This is the place my mum left, I were afraid to come home to for several reason, which bitch did my dad take home this night, is he crying, did he take suicide, will he hit me, and so on.
This house is personal. And when I'm inside this house, I mostly don't feel. (and why? because this is the house of hurt, this is the house of pain and deciving).
I could lie next to him and watch him sleep, I like that. He is beautiful,
but I don't feel.
I love him, I hope he knows.
I'm not there because of other reasons.
In the exact same room, my brother locked himself in the christmas of 1999, parents divorced but trying to celebrate christmas together. He cried and hit the walls.
That was the last I saw of his feelings.
Maybe they are there still.
Maybe he just lost them there. Maybe I can find his heart.
Would I give it back to him?
No.
I would save it someplace safe, and treat it well. A bleeding heart deserves that.
My brother are fine now,
without his heart.
And I want him to stay that way. Fine.
I want him to touch me, so I can feel nice looking.
Haha. I'm drunk on a sunday morning.
I love him. I cry, and I love him so fucking much.
(this thing is helping me, writing helps me..)
