Walking in heels on thin ice..

What do I mean by this title? It's easy really. Thin ice cracks just by normal pressure, wearing heels will make it even more difficult not to crack the ice.

And some people, well they make it that difficult to be around them. You have watch what you say, what you do, how to act, what to write well basically how to be yourself without triggering their reaction.

Why do we do it? Well, sometimes it's because you care so much about the person, sometimes it's because you care so much about what the person thinks about you and sometimes it's just because the explosion is much worse than walking on ice.

But how long can one keep up such an act? How long can you pretend to be someone you're not? Or that you're still the same person you were n years ago?

At some point or another something will crack. The question is will it be the ice or me?


We all go a little mad sometimes...

I don't know what I am, who I am, what I want, what I'm supposed to do anymore. I'm lost. And it's not all that bad. And that my friends is what Barney Stinsons would call a true story.

There's a sort of liberty that comes with the unknown. There's no plan to follow, no path to walk in, just a wide opening in front of you and you can do whatever the fuck you want. I used to be scared of such a thing. I thought getting lost was the worst thing that could happen to me. I thought that having a totally planned out future was the thing to do, staying focused was necessary not to go mad. But I've come to realize that there are different types of madness. The one I was most scared of is actually the one that came with all those plans. It's the one that makes you panic and hyperventilate because you're not where you had planned to be. It's the one that makes you feel like a loser, like you're unworthy, a nothing.

The other madness, the one that comes with being lost, is a different type of madness. It's the type of madness that gives way to creativity, it's the type of madness that allows you to let down your hair and twirl around in the fields. It's the type of madness that allows you to accept yourself as you are, good and bad. It's the type of madness that keeps your mind healthy, however contradictory that sounds. 

How can you feel so at home when you're lost? Maybe it's because you never had a home in the first place. Or maybe it's because belonging to one place, one thing, one person, is not your cup of tea. Or really it's just the fact that being lost means you don't have responsibilities, not really, because you don't really know do you?

And after all why do you need to know who you are when everyone's more than ready to tell you who you should be?

Why not just fuck it and let it be?


Writer's Block!

Writing sucks! It fucks you up horribly yet you need it like a junkie needs his cocaine. How can something so beautiful make you feel so bad? How can it create such sadness when it can give such joy?

Sometimes it feels like I'm stuck in a glass cage. People se me yet they cannot hear me cry for help. The only way to communicate is through writing, but how can you when your mind blacks out at the idea of letting a pen run on a paper?

Then water enters the box. Ice cold water that rises fast around you. Up to your neck and around your throat it settles like a noose and then higher into your mouth, over your head. And all you can do is hope for a miracle you know can't happen and pray to a god who's existence you don't believe in.

And as your lungs start crying for oxygen and your throat starts getting used to the feeling of suffocation, your brain starts shutting down. And for one blissful moment you've found paradise. A place where no thoughts are present, it's just you and the peaceful silence.


Dancing to the music

Having spend the weekend at home sick gives you time to think, and think and think and even over think stuff some more. Also it gives you plenty of time to dream, real dreams which your brain weaves up while you're resting to fight the illness off, but also dreams you control. Different scenarios you make up just to entertain yourself, pass the time or to be honest torture yourself.

Because really how can the real world ever live up to your expectations? And how does all that thinking help? Of course the world will seem like a shitty place, of course you'll feel crushed when you get back down on earth. Why do we do this to ourselves? Are we such destructive beings that we prefer being ecstatic for a second in our fantasy than being content in real life?

Yes life's a bitch. Yes it tends to throw more thunder than rainbows. And yes sometimes it's hard to see the silver lining when the clouds are so thick and united. But the more we live in a dream, the harsher the real world seems.

I'm an expert at creating the perfect life in an other world. I can create as many scenarios as you ask me to, any period of time, any age, no problem. But living in the real world, that's a lot harder to do. And it also takes a lot more gut to live in the real life than in the land of make believe. Don't take me wrong, I still think that some make believe is healthy, necessary even. And it will always be my tool to defend myself. But maybe, just maybe it's time to step away.

I don't want to grow up in some bitter old lady who can't remember anything good about her life because she was too busy making up another one. I want to be able to appreciate the small things. The sun shining on my face making my cheeks glow, the smell of the air after a night of rain, people's funny reactions to the wind, watching my friends screaming and wriggling because of a little yellow-striped bug, that feeling when you realise you just found a new song you'll love forever and so much more.

So I've decided to stop taking the coward's road, stand up straight and no not face the music, but dance to it!