Drunk before you're out of bed.
Asked by angelique-le-boursier
You know I didn’t even realise that I had this question, or this blog, or anything in life, until I looked out my window just now and saw a kid kicking a ball. Life has simple joys. I miss you too, I’ll be home again soon.
A while ago sex and love stopped meaning anything to me; they started meaning the same thing and nothing all at once. Sex was nothing. Love is nothing. Done because it’s enjoyed - no different to eating an apple in the morning, no different from the first cigarette of the day. In a sick sense I feel deadened because of this fact, when did I become that guy, that guy that has no emotional attachment. No emotional connection. That one night stand guy. That guy who doesn’t experience anything but a physical release, sweaty fucking and stained sheets instead of intimacy and the utmost trust with another person. That guy who doesn’t answer if she calls back, all I want now is no strings attached. I didn’t sign a contract for this shit; nothing I did even hinted at the fact that I gave a damn about her so why is she coming back? I’m single without commitments and that is the way it’ll stay until someone changes my viewpoint so completely that I fuck this life right off and have a relationship again, but that’s going to take a hell of a lot of effort on their part.
What’s really going to change in this scenario? I’ll start playing softer music instead of whatever band I’m into at the time. I’ll lay naked next to a warm body for a few hours instead of throwing on jeans and leaving. Maybe I’ll even make a cup of coffee when we wake up. Other than that I’m still the same bastard that was lying in that bed a week ago. I’m still that insensitive, opinionated bastard in a leather jacket and jeans, still smoking, still drinking heavily. Nothing else changes except for the fact that maybe I have something to come back to. Which means what? Nothing really. If i went out to the clubs right now, I’d still find someone to come back with. I’d still find some form of company, it just rotates nightly, just changes what colour hair I’m falling asleep next to. Is there really any point in chasing this dream? Chasing this idea of what could be, instead of just living what I am now? Is what I’ve become really so tragic that I should change myself completely?
It was just a small mistake but sometimes thats all it takes as the words bang out and bang into my head and out my mouth and over my body and through my soul and into my ears and over and over and over and over and over and over again.
The clocks flash random numbers into a room that doesn’t give a damn any more as the occupants wait for the day that meanings can be memorized instead of lost into the ground below. The desks are littered with notes echoing singular thoughts.
All you can hear is the sound of your own heart.
Clean air rots through the seams of the building surrounding me, these static halls do nothing for claustrophobia. The pearl white floors reek of emptiness even though the people are moving through corridors every waking moment. Doors are closing that never open again, closing dreams that open sadness. Sorrow flows through this, the generic beeps count human heartbeats.
The mouths on surrounding faces gape open with condolences but speak only of regrets, their skin deep concern just a passing moment that is forgotten within the hour.
Life is just a pass-the-parcel of cancer.
Sleep escapes me like the dreams of yesterday and tomorrow.
Today is the day I live, but the days stretch and contract as the moon spins around the sun.
Celestial beings waken my daily daze and point me in a new direction.
Something unfamiliar to my being.
Something I can’t grasp.
New scents evoke memories of sleeping women,
The ones who’s names elude my mind,
They dance in my fields,
Playing host to my heart,
I never forgot them,
They simply slipped into my dreams,
Those dreams.
Those dreams that elude me.
Escape me as I want to escape me.
Teasing me with promises of a new land.
One where I am God and She is Me.
The start of a new session marks the start of a new chapter of my life. A new intake of residents on campus, but at the same time there are the people who’ve meant more to me in 6 months than anyone else has in 18 years that are leaving. Theres the high possibility that I’ll never see them again. Between the two of them is over 5600km; Norway to the US. Thats over 15,000km away from me.
Maybe its selfish to miss them. Maybe its just my ego expressing itself here, but how much god damned pain do we have to go through with all this bullshit? Two people I’ve met here have changed the way that I think in some regard, but the chance of me seeing either of them again is so slim that I might as well give up right now any hope that I’ve managed to hold on to. It’ll only get worse. The people who I’m closest to right now are the ones who are bound to leave in a years time. How do you learn to accept this? To deal with this? Someone said to me today that in a years time I’ll be desensitised to this, because its the only way to deal with the hurt that goes along with making friends from different countries.
I’m only 18. I get pissy if i don’t talk to a handful of people for a few days because I just have so much to talk to them about, so with this in mind how am i going to deal with not talking to these two? Cut them out of my life completely and become numb now because of the loss? If I live for another 50 years will I eventually learn to deal with it? I’ve dealt with death, I’ve dealt with losing friends before, but this is different. They’re alive and kicking and I simply can’t reach them anymore, not in the same way. They mean more to me than any other friend that I’ve lost before because we clicked so well. We were all at uni, we all had some ideals that were similar, we were all bright enough to have conversations that had the possibility to change the way of thinking. My way of thinking. Thats not an easy feat.
The feeling worsens because I realise that this, this is just the start to a cycle.
There are 208 bones in the adult human body. 600 muscles. 22 organs. 100 trillion cells. 5 senses. In effect there are three buckets of water and a handful of minerals. Chemical messages. Proteins. This is what a human is. This is what we are made up of, and yet despite knowing all of this science cannot begin to explain what a person is. A person is not a human. A person, while tangible, is made up of the intangible. Not one living being can begin to explain the depths of emotion that a person feels, that causes their evolution from a human.
Experiences make up a person. Memories, emotions, the moments that make you lay awake at night with a sick feeling in your abdomen because you can’t explain your actions, or you can explain them all too well and just well and keep running over them, over that moment, that one that you try to get out of your head by escaping reality into a bottle. The ones that deadened your extra sense; the one that isn’t physical. That one the majority of earth’s population calls love.
A person is regrets.
A human is robotic and apathetic.
