Empty floors


After a day and after the rain
Because you didn’t see the sun
You open the door because it was locked
And you will see that the curtains are wide open

Light is falling on the floor
Structures, just being there in silence
and in fact the only presence in your life

You did not pay for them. They did not pay for you.
You did not ask for them. They did not ask for you.

And day after day
Every day the same, but in different perspectives
You open this door
One day in the dark
One day in the light

Nothing changes,
Yet everything changes.
Just because of that.

Existing but not living.
Living, but not existing.



Amaretto coffee


Usually, I do not drink alcohol. Partly, because in general, I don’t like the taste, partly because of the nasty things that can happen when someone becomes alcoholic, as I’ve seen happening in my family. Or things I’ve seen happening that people did when they were drunk (I guess in general I really dislike drunk people).  I can understand why someone doesn’t want to face the world and tries to numb the soul, or however you should call that. Sometimes I wish I could do that too.

Another reason I guess is that it’s expensive, and since I do not have an income I just don’t even think of spending so much money on it because it’s not necessary basic need.

The last two days, I’ve been feeling extremely sad. Sad and empty. Spending a lot of time in bed, just because I didn’t know what to do with myself, or how to find distraction, or any purpose in anything to do – everything seems meaningless and pointless. Things don’t matter. (But at the same time, I’m frustrated that I feel this way and I don’t focus on a future, or getting out of this crap. I want a different life, why don’t I act on it?)

In the basement, I rediscovered an old bottle of amaretto, I once bought for making tiramisu. Plenty left. Last week, I found a new Viennese blend drink which was very good. Somehow in my head, I linked amaretto to this drink, and thought it would be nice to numb my soul. Or have the positive effects of alcohol, if they would even work with me, I’m not sure. It was worth the try I guess. So I mixed the amaretto with the Viennese blend drink.

Somehow I found comfort in this. Apparantly this weekend, is my amaretto coffee weekend.

Fears – the black noise.

Tick tick tick. I’m still in bed, listening to the ticking away of seconds on the clock. Through the curtain I can see that the sun has come up, but I don’t want to leave my bed. I feel awful. For another hour, I stay like this. But I knew. The warning signs were already there. I’m struggling. Struggling to get through the days again.

Another day, and things are still empty. Yesterday, I managed to do two things; inform at the Jiu Jitsu club and contact a person to see if we could go together to a gym. Both replied. Now I feel like I don’t want to, but I will have to force myself to do this. I can not have the same life as before, it will kill me. I can not let that happen. I just can not.

Struggling for words to find, for things to do, for things to keep myself occupied. Struggling to sort out all the stuff I have, to see what can go away and what I really want to keep. Should I keep my books from University? I don’t know. Should I keep the guitar I never play on? (but honestly: I can’t – guitars and me don’t really get along somehow, but anyway I don’t really play instruments anymore).For sure I will do some clothes away, I have a lot of old stuff that I didn’t wear for over a year. For sure I will do some video games away, onces I don’t really like and never play. For sure I will have to do some of my notes away, since there are so many and I don’t want other people to find or read them. My old (and broken) cellphones, I decided to give them away to charity, since they get money for recycling them. I couldn’t sell them anyway. But they only want the phones, not the chargers. So what do I do with the chargers? Just throw them away? They are good. These are not really difficult questions, but in times like these, they just make my head spin.


I need to find a way. I just need to. Find a way. Find a way. Find a way. Find a way. …

A day with a piece of melancholy

Unfortunately, this is a re-write. Somehow I did something wrong and I lost the original writing. This is in no way as good as the first one was and it  really did upset me that I lost everything I wrote because it was way more better written.  But I’m afraid there is no way of getting the original writing back. I guess all I can do is share this re-write.

It’s kind of weird to think of certain things- today, four years ago, how my life almost ended. And how things changed somehow. Or how they actually did not change at all.

After all those years this is the first time I have these kind of flashback moments and my thoughts go back to it so deeply and real. Trying to recapture memories and feelings. Four years is a long time, or short, depending on how you look on things I guess. A lot of seconds, minutes , days have passed by since then. Certain pieces seem to be on my mind as if they only happened yesterday.

Though I have learned things of it all. How things can get in a different perspective. How the body seems to change its operating system in certain circumstances. How the mind can changes the way it works usually. How things change and yet not change at all. Anyway physical pain and pain of the soul, are completely different types of pain.I do not think you even should compare those. How quickly a body can be ruïned. How small things, sometimes not even an inch long, can be so deadly and destroying. How weak you can get and your mind goes in another world and the real one is just some vague movie playing on a television far away.

As far as the physical pain, before all of this happened, I couldn’t imagine things could hurt so badly. It was the most intense and cruel physical pain I have ever felt. A very violent pain, stabs without warning, making you want to shrink untill being invisible and being afraid to breathe. When I think of it now I still get goosebumps. Those violent stabs, tattooed in my brain forever. Tattooed in my heart forever. Somehow I can still remember how it felt. Although I have a high pain tolerance, I could not not scream of the pain. Some moments are harder to recapture- like when I slowly tried to walk again, and not even walked a mile, my body was so broken I had to pay a price and recover two full days of that action. Nowadays, it is hard to imagine it was like that. And so there is more.

Somehow the more I think of it, the more I can match it in metaphorical ways to certain aspects of my life back in the day but maybe even my current life as well (if you can even call that a life). How small things race like crazy through the mind and they are all connected but not connected yet. Like shooting with a gun with gunpowder without bullets – all messed up lost pieces that go in every direction. Surviving. Dying. Losing life. Slipping away. Breathing. Oxygen. Essential resporation organs. Inflammations. Bacteria. Damage. Protection of the heart fails. Missed by doctors // Surviving. Life. Death. No right to exist. Loneliness. Emptiness. Abandonment. You can not go on with this life. You can not go on living like this. Lost all directions. No space. You can not be you. Invisible.You can not go on with life like this [ and…… w h a t e v e r ]

Reflecting back on everything. I’m still left with questions. Questions without answers. Left with damage. Less trust. Less hope. And so on. Maybe the mental impact everything had was more than I want or can admit. I am not sure about that. Not that my life was so great before all of that. But it striked just on a certain point I was fighting a way to break down a depression and heading for a new life. And then it struck me. Hard. Not only that. Of course other things happen at the same time. What I learned there was that no matter what , you are always alone. You can never expect some one to be there for you when you are on the lowest points in your life. You just can not. That seems to be tattooed in my brain. 

Anyway, the weirdest thing of all maybe is that after all what happened, I might have expected somehow I would appreciate life a bit more.Somehow that would be more logical after all what happened. Move forward. Enjoy life more. Yolo, right?

But none of that ever happened.