I’m sick of feeling and I’m dying to feel something.
I’m sick in my mind and it hurts my body.
I can’t trust in what my eyes see anymore.
I can’t trust my thoughts. My senses are in a dysfunctional mode.
I have all the time at my disposal and I’m always late.
I’m desperate, though everything is so peaceful around me.
I’m anxious. I can’t concentrate myself. I can’t produce logical ideas.
I’m chasing shadows. I’m chasing invisible steps.
I’ve locked myself inside these walls so my madness can’t escape.
I’m starving. I’m greedy. I am obsessed.
I can’t sleep and I can’t keep my eyes open either.
I keep choosing “whatever” between the “yes” and “no” options.
My nights are full of empty spaces; my days are empty with fool actions…
My mother hates me and my father wished that I was a different person.
To say that I’m misunderstood is not a possibility.
I lie to everyone…I have to…because if I’d say the truth they wouldn’t believe me….
So I lie to them so fearless …I even lie to myself just for fun.
I keep passing through a lot of random situations…some of them real and most of them delusional…I can’t tell the difference anymore.
It’s 6pm. I am walking in an empty house and I open a door to a new world. Yet, not a better one…
“I spy with my little eye…” a room full of red wine…
Is it wine?
No it isn’t. It’s cold. It’s scarlet. It’s…Is it blood?
Then I’m walking again but I’m in another room. This one is very crowded. I can barely walk between the dancing skeletons. I look at my left hand and my glass is empty and in my right hand my cigarette has putted out ….
I’m sober. I start to panic. I want to get out of this place, but I can’t. There’s no way out. There’s no door. No window. And the walls are now giant guillotines.
I close my eyes and count to ten.
I’m lying on a bed now. It’s morning already, I can see the light penetrating the room through the small cracks on the window. I spent the all night awake.
I shouldn’t be here. I wanted to, but I know that I will regret it later.
Maybe not that later...
I have to go. And I’m sure that I will never come back.
Last thing I remember I am in an elevator, and then I blacked out.
It’s morning again. It’s another day. It’s Wednesday I guess. I’m weak. My legs shake. My head aches. My bones are freezing.
It’s been almost a week since I’ve been in self-starvation.
My mirror says that I’ve been succeed. I’m victorious.
What was the prize? Is there any? I can’t remember…
Is it endless happiness outfitted in stunning dresses?
Is it everlasting beauty?
Did I win?
Thank you! I’m so happy…I want to thank to the entire world…
Wait…what?!
Shut up and go eat something!
Just a very small amount of food won’t be a disaster. Or would it be?
Go ahead. Eat it. I know you’re dying to. Just one single bite and you’ll be saved.
Saved? Or damned? Not sure…
It’s 4am and I’m lying on the floor staring at the intermittent lights on the ceiling.
Empty bottles surround me.
I’m highly intoxicated.
I’m suffocating in ash and dust.
My body shivers.
Truth or consequence?
Rise or decadence?
Suicide or celebration?