bus trip, carrots & wine

i just told myself i would come back home, sit down on my workstation & start jotting down all the stuff that had tagged along during my painful journey from work. i can’t recall much: something about me not wanting to forget the shit in my life, pretty much what i wanna believe is the out-of-university things no one teaches you, like how not to be there for someone when they’re going through shit coz it drags you –i shit you not–, the countless bels apollons that have been helping me out release a great deal of endorphin whenever i work out, the distinct realization that despite years and years gone by i keep on wondering who the fuck i am and if the tons of women voices in my head might, just might, be the reason why i don’t quite feel like a man. this makes absolutely no sense, it’s sexist for starters, it’s bigoted, cynical & perchance even criminal.

i just took a toilet break, but i could notice the tiny biology book i read while sitting is nowhere to be found. i guess she took it. she keeps telling me where she thinks i should think i should place my stuff, the way i should think i should do stuff & whatnot. there’s no way i can get her out of my head. choosing to ignore her or doing stuff my way won’t do. before leaving home for work we had some other petty fight. it was her doing stuff her way in my personal space. in my defence –or, rather, my pathetic attempt on it–, i wanna stick around as much as i can… because… truth be told… i’ve been thinking about her tragic death for a really really long time. i can’t believe up to this point my eyes are watery &… God… i’ve put off so many plans i had so long ago… & i know it’s not her fault… & it should be mine… & i’m fucking afraid…. & she’s the only one who actually gives a shit about me & i can’t stand coming across seemingly perfectly families out there on the street, especially, just particularly, when the dad kisses his children on their cheek… i just die… i fucking die from the inside out & everything moves like damned worms consuming my corpse over & over again. i feel bushed, everyday. it won’t matter if i sleep. been feeling like that since i was 20. i’m sorry we speak two different languages. we do. sometimes i don’t even feel like uttering a dang word. i…

i didn’t wanna forget all i meant by being next to that particular friend was to help her out go through a rough season in her life. i’m far from a philanthropist so when it all ended the way it did i had to do some exhaustive soul-searching & come up with the genuine reason i had done it. well, i was trying to soothe myself, to cure myself, to undergo therapy by not looking at myself. it worked out at some point. i firsthand knew all the facets of depression, so crudely… so as days and weeks went by i repeatedly told myself i could do better than that, that there was no reason i couldn’t go on, that nowadays people voluntarily jump into their own abyss of despair and uneasiness, sometimes a bit unconsciously, sometimes a bit eagerly, sometimes because of their loneliness, sometimes in search of some love. but such tough love, that is, unrequited love, could hardly be the real thing, or at least the ideal thing… after all, what the fuck is real in this eternal joke? i got tough, i REALly felt it that way, i started prioritizing myself & being the focus on my own life. that’s what i did. fuck my own depression bouts two years ago, fuck my profession is crap in my country, fuck my relationship didn’t work out in the end, fuck my mom’s alone and lost a child, fuck i’m no longer after my teenage dreams, fuck i have no father, fuck i feel i have no home, fuck my buddies are away, fuck i don’t fuck as much as i fucking would like to. fuck all that. there’s plenty to do other than lying on my bed day in & day out pitying my very existence.

as for you, bud, i gotta tell i was moved by that message you sent me a couple of weeks ago. totally made my day. you know what? It kinda saddened me. to know you might not be here after all wasn’t at all in my plans. somehow i’d pictured us both sharing a condo or  somethin’ and, you know, hanging out. i wouldn’t even care if you’d be with your next soon-to-be former girlfriend, yeah, the one you’d offer me to have sex with! hahaha Coz real buds share, ain’t they? coz we’d shared so much, coz we shared learning this very tongue, coz we shared classrooms & grass, coz we shared neurons & the blood which calls for blood. brother, let this humble excerpt be a salutation to you, wherever you are.


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