It’s been a long time, I’ve been thinking a lot lately. I sort of physically fell down a downward storm that crushed everything inside me but my body, although I feel it in my bones, something has died in me. It’s funny, it’s the first time I write like this, like I’m really lonely, like I’m really alone. Before? Before I was lying, I was saying “oh Lord, I’m so lonely!” But deep in my heart I still knew that someone was listening.
I was still waiting for someone to come to my rescue and hold my hand and hand me her heart and heal me in the end.
But that was a fallacy. Not only on the sentimental perspective, but even in the realm of comradery. Comradery?
You’ve got to realize that no one loves you, and that no one wants you here, or else them too would be penpalling with the stars in longing for an answer. No they don’t. They go about they lives. Pay their taxes, have kids, divorce, then die. That little glow was still very alive within me until that day when I said,
stop, I don’t need you to commit suicide.
And I died, I died to this world, that had never acknowledged me. I died from society and I drifted away not really knowing where to go. I killed that persona, filled to the brim with false hopes, charades and fairy tales, that the grand fakers narrated me time and time again. This is disgusting. Now I know that I am really alone, and that I can’t count on no one,
in three decades maybe they’d dissect my decadence. As usual art critics danse one death too late.
And I’m gone, who can even catch me after I evaporated and bring me back to the pen.
“Personne”, which in French means someone and, nobody.
It’s hilarious, you should laugh, this is what people do when someone dies, they one day smile, then cry, cry, then smile, then die. And people will do the same for them, until there’s no one left.
This man would be the freest man in the history of mankind, he would at length breathe the fresh air of liberty, before killing himself in his turn. And what did I spoke of a last man instead of a last woman? Well take a walk plebeian.
Love (or something like that)