Hanging on too long

I keep coming back to the same point in my life, I could travel until the end of the world, taking everything that i physically need to survive with me in my backpack, except him, and i still would find him there in another city, another world completely from what we have come to know, i'm finding him everywhere. I feel like i've stepped in to a Romantic Love kinda 50's flick, without the 50s part unfortunatly, and where we are in the middle of the troublesome scene where everything will have to be resolved in order to come to the grand ending of everlastings and happy living arrangements like that. Instead of waiting for that to happen, I am leaving to the next european city that can reanimate me, and shake me awake, the train ticket with just my name on it - to get lost in a city of french and foreign strangers in the most romantic city of the world, Paris - is waiting for me on my desk. Just arrived back home in the low lands and already aching to leave this frenzy, this rain, this life draining place and rat race of the same sad sob stories again.

"my blood runs on but my body stands still" - Virginia Woolf

muse

So I suppose I do not know how he really looked and, in fact, I suppose I shall never know, now, for he was plainly an object created in the mode of fantasy. His image was already present somewhere in my head and I was seeking to discover it in actuality, looking at every face i met in case it was the right face - that is, the face which corresponded to my notion of the unseen face of the one i should love, a face created by the rage to love which consumed me. i created him solely in relation to myself, like a work of romantic art, an object corresponding to the ghost inside me. - Flesh and the mirror; fireworks by angela carter.

Slum Village

With my head anything but in the clouds, i carry myself like a heavy load towards an appointment that has been inevitable for months. Not knowing what to expect of such a meeting, I went in with no expectations what so ever. Though I didn't bring my expectations this time, seeing as how they got lost the last time... this time, they were met. It came as such a surprise, a feeling of joy, overwhelmed by a good ending again, for a minute i think that things are turning up. Not believing what happened, I continue the rest of my day feeling proud, as i got what i wanted,... this time.

I wake up, wish the day away, stumble around and throw on the first clothes i can find. Strutting around the house looking dazed for the instant coffee machine, i think about what just happened, not affecting me so vividly anymore. Ah, the fake sugar gives me my daily dosage of fake energy, right up my alley, right. I check my mail, the mirror - I shiver - shower, dress up, hurry up and catch the last train to arrive not-so-fashionably late on the set. I am tired all the time, being nice costs energy, so i whip out more food my stomach can handle. Binging away, it's official, I have lost control. I can't think or process more than two words at once, i am running around in circles, chaos calms my nerves, rest races my thoughts. Hammer time. My trip to Paris, followed by a few more cities, couldn't have come sooner to save my reason. City of light, guide me. For now, I'm back in Slum village, walking up and down on Memory lane. Let's trade places, step in my shoes and travel from good times to bad times and back again in minutes. High and low, heart beats fast and slow, i feel cold and warm at the same time, not happy not sad, who could ever take this? Misery and magic hand in hand, someone break the spell, this curse, a parasite in me. Distance and solid boundaries, this is final. Heart hopes forever, stop it, so will I. Finally leaving, i'm aware of your moves. You turn a blind eye. Promise not to dwell, see you somewhere. Handle with care, I wish u well

good times for a change...

so please please please, let me, let me, let me,
get what i want this time.