First post in english out there. This blog’s been alive for eight solid months now, which is, as far as I recall, a great big miracle. In a few weeks, I’ll reach a hundred articles and two thousand readers. Not so bad, for the random musings of a rather confused mind.
I don’t quite know why the sudden urge of writing in english. Probably because I sometimes drown, sometimes swim in an english spoken world lately. Maybe because while I try to hold underwater until they die my thoughts, my fears, my battles and my defeats, they are slowly taking over me, and it is so much easier to express it in english. Don’t ask me why. I don’t know. Every single word, every emotion, every breath, every whisper, every shout, every cry seems to be far stronger if in english. Which is odd. I mean I’m apparently living in a country of arts (well, as far as the humanity until 1980 is concerned) and words and plays and books and writers, so I should, as a writer, find a comfort into those billions of expressions and possibilities. I just find them impressing. Too impressing. Too rich and too tricky and too big for me to wrap my characters into it and feel completely satisfied.
I’ll probably rewrite my first novel entirely in english sometime soon, providing I have the time to. I’ll probably be much more happy with the final result, because whenever Matt kisses Melinda, he won’t feel the urge to let the whole wild world know about it. He’ll just kiss, and every one will understand what he means.
So, yeah, english and a so very strange time of my life. Actually, saying it is strange is already a statement that ain’t true. I’m in the middle of a what the hell time of my life. Things falls apart, yet some are promising, and opportunities are as obvious as dead ends and no one knows what is good from what is not.
I don’t know. There. One hell of a statement. How are you, axy ? I don’t know. What do you want, axy ? (aside from spending my life somewhat with my favorite english person, on screen or for real, his call) I don’t know. What do you feel, axy ? (aside from jumping up and down with the idea that STID is finally going to be released soon here) I don’t know.
I don’t know.
I wish I was angry enough to tell some people to go and get fucked by flesh eaters penguins with sharp purple teeth and a violent tendancy to devour their prey once fucked, but I don’t. I postponed the revenge. I refuse to take back what’s mine for some stupid reasons I ignore. I mean, hell, I have a bloody form to fill up to just slap my mother in the face, and I do deserve more than a slap on her, I don’t even dare. Is it weakness ? Am I being a coward ? Nope. I’m just being too nice and too scared. I need to…I don’t know, grow a fucking pair of balls and punch her in the face the way she needs to be.
Maybe it’s easier for me not to do anything. That way, I’m not responsible ? It’s far from me, too far for me to reach it ? If I could, I think I’d just take my computer, my luggage, my best friend and my jack, and I’d just run away from everything, and I’d make sure no one will ever remind to me that she existed. She’s not my mother. She’s barely a surrogate who gave birth to the most unwanted child that ever existed. My face wears her mistakes, my shoulders carries her lies. I think I just want to get it over and done with her. Never hear about her ever again. Never think about her.
I guess that means that I have to fill up the bloody form. I guess I should do it. I guess. You lot have no idea how it feels to be the result of this kind of…Yeah, misery. It is misery. A father I will never know, a mother that hates me, and an adoptive dad she took away from me. I’m seriously considering the fact that this really fucked me up so much I will never get a normal life. I’m running away as fast as I can from normality. Sadly, the only thing I know about my father is that he gave me this sense of abnormality. Being so stupidly sensitive, having an IQ high enough to rot my own brain, having this ability and wish to go help the world without being settled down enough to carry about my own life first…We’re the same. Somehow, I hope, no, I wish he’s looking after me from wherever he is. I’m his only child, let alone daughter. How I wish I had the chance to know you. Even for a minute or two. Would have been great.
Thankfully-yes, sarcasm, irony, and every kind of cynism you may want to find in there-I’m not stuck in the middle of nowhere only by that. Nohoooo. I have no bloody idea as to where I’m going. I’ll start very soon a triple degree in sociology/philosophy/history, look forward to add a splash of psychology in there, to become a teacher, or work into a research lab, or even become a social service worker, and it looks damn exciting, but where am I going to end up ? Things never goes as you plan them to be. Never. So, yeah, great big doubts. Maybe I’ll get published. Rolling the dices again. Maybe not. Facing terrible moments of self inflicted mind wounds caused by endless questions. I don’t know.
Should probably have entitled this article like that. I don’t know.
On the I don’t know subject, there’s those stupid signs my body is sending to me. For a long time already. Probably…Well, yeah, four months. Head messing around. Memory running away. The terrible feeling that my brain’s electric network is being switched off for a tiny second, but enough to feel it. Spots on my eyes. Heart racing, then slowing down, then racing again for absolutely no reasons. Dots, sometimes big, sometimes not, appearing everywhere. Right lung’s not working properly anymore, gets blocked and send a nice, lovely stabbing pain on my right side. And this list gets longer by the day. Giving me warning I still refuse to see. Actually, I see them. I don’t want to hear them. But is is making a fool of me that I chose not to catch the science’s answers ? I could. If I fail at being a strong stubborn idiot, I can call them now, end up in the ER, finishing the night being cut into pieces and becoming their puppet. When you get sick, it’s like you have no other choice. Either you let them do, or you’re too stupid to be taken care of. And what if it was my choice, to trust m own body to avoid this mess ? I’d still make the same one if I had to do it again. I’m still convinced that the first cut will as well be the last. Perhaps I’m wrong. I’m not in a hurry to figure it out. Even if it is coming my way faster than I want to.
I’m still focused on the very first words I heard once the culprit was found. You won’t last two weeks. That was on August 27th, 2007. Almost six years ago. I don’t feel good, but I’m never going to complain. I had a lot more than I was supposed to. And I am not giving up. No way. Never. That, for sure, I do know. There are a lot of exciting things out there. And exciting people. I won’t be mad at some of them forever.
Proof ? I miss Muse quite a lot. I reall really do. I don’t miss the mess, I miss the band. One of the reasons why I absolutely want to get better. I want to see them getting back my trust and my love with the next album or tour. I want to see them act like the fucking Muse phoenix, reborn from their own burning ashes. I really really really want that. And believe in it.
I want to slap Charles Cave in the fucking face too. And hug Tommy and Jack and Rob. And Harry once he cut his hair in a decent way. I miss them. Not as much as I thought I’d be, but still. New songs sounds pretty decent and nice, I’m looking forward to hear them in a proper way. Plus they’re…White Lies. The are a part of my life too. They were here in my worst days. I held her hand while they left the stage at Wembley knowing this moment would be the toughest of my entire life. I was not wrong. I was heading to a world of nightmare straight after. So, I need them to come back and make things easily back again, and to become back this adorable band and the creators of such perfect music. Make things better.
As for The Killers, hell, I don’t know. Amsterdam was my best concert. But I am so, so mad at them for behaving like assholes. I tend to hate people that are making me feel like I’ve spent my money the wrong way.
Needless to say that in this blurry ocean of unkept promises yet undying devotion, I have something to rely on quite strongly, and I’m so glad he’s there. He’s like the red laser dot on the horizon you have to follow to stay out of the blue. Even if it was meant to happen, and I was supposed to fall for those pretty and insanely beautiful blue eyes, I am just eternally grateful for it to be now that I’m just tied up to a rock in the middle of a storm. He’s just there whenever I need to drop the pressure inside my fucked up head, and the further I go, the wider my own creative perspectives goes. It is boiling, now, it’s like I’ve just kept all of those ideas stuck up there until it’s going to explode and end up into something that will undoubtedly be the best I’ve ever done.
So, see. Maybe I don’t know, but the things I do know are keeping me afloat. Which is good. I guess I just need a bit of time off to think and took strong decisions, life-changing ones. That’s why I deserted all of the social networks lately. Whenever you’re standing in a twitter timeline while feeling lost, it’s like hundreds of thousands of people are shouting all at once, and you’re trying to hear and decipher one message from one voice only in the middle of all this. It was just too hard for me not to decide to back off. Now the question is : when will I come back ? Not too sure I will, actually. I’m always, in a very selfish manner, amazed by how quick you can dissapear without people noticing.
And dissapearing tend to freak me out, lately.
Enough for tonight. Or I’ll be feeling like I relate to a character who’s probably initiated this storm a couple of week ago, and, as much as you’ve been such an incredible encounter, I’d rather stay away from your path as of now.
Ooooh. Oh. Noticed ? My blog has changed. Who would guess that I can’t wait anymore until S3 ? No one, right ?
Mind Palace 