If she returns...

...from oblivion, from close yet so unreachable, there might be a million things I'd say.

Or maybe I'll say nothing at all, cause if she returns, what I say means shit

Or means loads, but all will be unnessecary.

Cause when, -if-, she returns it means

The hatred has gone or at least

will be burried and the need to talk, chat, shout, fight

long gone.

And I'll cry and the guilt

won't go away, but I'll cry and

welcome back everything that was before and I'll

be grateful that she forgot, or forgave, or

chose to pretend that none of it matters anymore.

"If" she returns, not when, and if is

so unlikely, I

can only hope we'll one day

be strangers, not

enemies.

Doubt

I don't know anymore. You confuse me. Is it wrong for me not to get it?
There's this point at which you look at me and tell me I'm wonderful. Tell me how much you like how cool I am, how much I understand you, that you know I really try and that I've become so much happier... "I've never seen you this happy.. It's so great" you said. "You've come such a long way, you try so hard, it's really getting better!" you said.

And then I blinked and there you were, looking far too serious. Doubting us. Doubting me. Doubting if this is such a good idea. You don't know if you care "like a boyfriend" you said... You had to figure it out.

I blinked again and there you were, having a great time with me. I was fine, I was happy, and so were you. No fucking issues. I thought I did a good job reminding you how much better we were doing...

And again, I blinked and there you were, talking about how you need "alone time", which is fine, but still this sense of not knowing. You need time to figure out if we are a good idea...

I don't know anymore. Weren't you the one who said it was gonna take a long time before this got serious for you? Weren't you the one saying it would be a while before you got attached? Before you'd know if this would work, that only time could tell? And now after what, BARELY three months you go on about how you need to "think about it" and "figure out" if this is gonna work, before moving on. What the? So based on BARELY 3 months, of which the beginning was a mess and the entire last month was circumstantial crap (exams, seriously, you really wanna compare that to everyday stuff?), you're suddenly gonna be able to make a decent analysis of us? No way right? :s

Lucky

I feel sorry for what you've lost
You never asked for any of it
It makes me kinda sad
That I am the lucky one

Nevertheless
Don't push it into my shoes
I can't help
Being the lucky one

Though I know you're hurting
I think you should grow up
You're childish thinking
Made me the lucky one

I hope you find peace
And satisfaction somewhere
I hope you can grow
So we can be The Lucky Ones.

The only thing that says it all

Metaphor - In Flames

You stole my pure intentions
You are the sickness in between
Let me in, I’ll bury the pain

You taught me to be sad as you
You almost made me take it all
Let me in, I’ll bury the pain

You bend me and you shake me
You beg me then you break me
Let me in, I’ll bury the pain

You made me feel like a sinner
Now you fear you’ll die alone
Let me in, I’ll bury the pain

The sickness that you are
A plague that made me starve
Do you think you can show me
How I come this far?

The sickness that you are
A plague that made me starve
Do you think you can show me
How I come this far?

I feel it’s taking over
And everything falls dark
Break me open, the desperate cry

The sickness that you are
A plague that made me starve
Do you think you can show me
How I come this far?

The sickness that you are
A plague that made me starve
Do you think you can show me
How I come this far?

Tolerance

Ik ben, voor zover ik me herinner, nog nooit zo kwaad, verward, teleurgesteld, onzeker, pissed en stressed-out geweest. Fucking kutzever.

Ik snap er echt geen hól meer van. Je probeert je als mens zo goed en kwaad het kan uit miserie en catastrofe te houden en tóch gaat het fout. Het gaat godverdomd áltijd fout. Why? Echt, wtf... Voor zover je er zelf wat aan kan helpen wil je lief en aardig zijn en niemands leven verkloten en well, shit happens. maar het BOEIT niet. Het boeit geen zak of je geprobeerd hebt de dingen niet te verfucken, het maakt geen reet uit of je zo fatsoenlijk geweest bent de keuze te laten aan de mensen die er wél wat mee te maken hebben. Vroeg of laat komt het toch op jouw nek terecht. En dan ben je de bitch.
Eerst de godverdomde trut die met je vriendje aan de haal ging (which was niet de bedoeling en which is nieteens wáár), dan de godverdomde aanleiding tot scheefgroeiende relaties (ja, want dat was mijn hele dóel, seriously...), dan het godverdomde kutwijf die tóch geen schijn van kans maakt, maar tóch een godverdomd kutwijf is omdat ze toevallig menselijk is en ook wat voelt.
Wat ís dat voor gezeik trouwens, dat gedoe over vertrouwen schaden en al die shit. Did I, really? Want voor zover ik me herinner heb ik hier niemand wat misdaan, behalve emoties getoond waarmee ik dan nog ten zeerste van plan was uiterst realistisch om te gaan en ze aldus te laten voor wat ze waren. Wat heb ik gedaan, in hémelsnaam? What the fuck did I do? Wat ik me óók herinner was dat ík niet degene was die achterhield hoe ik me echt voelde bij een aantal situaties. Nee, fijn.. ga je in mijn gezicht doen alsof alles leuk en aardig is en dan ben ík de bitch die je vertrouwen geschaad heeft? Je behandelt me als een stuk stront omwille van een gevoel, geeft me geen seconde de tijd om het je eens deftig uit te leggen, stelt een of andere verdomde roteis waarvan je wéét dat ie te belachelijk is voor woorden (om er maar niet bij te zeggen dat je blijkbaar in de plááts van anderen zat te beslissen of die eis ok was of niet), gaat míj de schuld geven van je verfuckte relatie op elke manier die gewoon geenszins gegrond is, zit me daarna met een schuldgevoel op te zadelen wat eigenlijk niet op z'n plaats is en gaat me dan achteraf nog betichten van ongewenste bemoeienissen terwijl jíj toch echt degene was die mij contacteerde.

Gódverdomme.

En spreek volgende keer voor jezelf, for fuck's sake, in plaats van voor de rest van de fucking wereld.

GODVERDOMME!!!!!

Ana and the mirror

I thought you left, left for good.
I kicked you out, you have no right
To return here.
I loved your reflection
And what you promised me
You made me love
The hate for me
Made me hate myself
For wanting you

I kicked you out
You have no right
To make me sick and strip
my choice of what I'll be
I'd love to let you back in
And hate to hate the mirror
Again.
I'd hate to let you back in
And love your twists
Of reality.

I kicked you out
You returned to where you
Never belonged.

I will make you leave.
I can't.
But will.

It's just a thought.

Bits and pieces of affection
Point me in the direction
Of losing all of my protection
From Neglect

While I write my words, unheard
In silence of explosions of thoughts
In the final end confusing
Contradicting each part of thinking

Hiding from my truth and minding only
That thoughts of you are left unharmed
Unbroken, untouched, unspoken

Breaking under the burden
Of faking reality, making my way
Through the fog of my mind
And taking in all it's uncertainties

Unaware of all untold and unseen
Grows the awareness of
Wrong impressions, unclear confessions
And battles won by the piercing dagger of memory

In my bubble I remain
Clearly contradictory and
Confusingly unclear.