A letter to a non-existent lover
“I am doing the best I fucking can,” you scream exhaustedly into an empty room. Sometimes your best is jut not enough.
Kartais kai kurie užrašai neturi gilios prasmės ir tėra minčių srautas
“I am doing the best I fucking can,” you scream exhaustedly into an empty room. Sometimes your best is jut not enough.
“You see there is only one constant. One universal. It is the only real truth. Causality. Action, reaction. Cause and effect.”
The problem is the choice. Glad you have none.
Nubėgęs tušas, nubrozdinti keliai ir skylė ten, kur turėtų būti širdis, iš kurios nepaliaujamai bėga kraujas. Įstrigusi medinė strėlė ir nerimastingas žvilgsnis pro langą.
There is always a breaking point when it comes to the in-between and it is never pretty. It’s like walking on a rope a top of a skyscraper and you either come out unscathed or drop into a deep depressive episode. There is literally no in-between.
Sėdi ir erziniesi. Erziniesi ir sėdi toliau. Vaikštai pirmyn atgal be didelio tikslo, nuo vieno buto kampo iki kito. Diena prabėga tuščiai, ramiai ir neįdomiai, net nepastebi kaip sutemsta. Jautiesi savimi keistai nusivylusi.
You hear the sound of a dog pacing around in your flat, claws against the floor, the subtle gentle scratch of the wood. The interesting part of it all is that you don’t have a dog.
Shit is getting real way too fast and the nights are long, way too long for your liking. In those painstakingly long hours you breathe uncertainty and loneliness seeps, bleeds into your bones.
I had a dream of a tall king looming, towering over me while I slept, whispering sweet nothings into my ear that gave me vividly horrifying nightmares. The Nightmare King would whisper silently, delicately all the things that terrified me in my waking hours.