How
true can love be and why do we hang on to it? Do you know the torture
of uncertainty and how does one survive the constant craving? Knowing
and not knowing at the same time, an answer clear as the sun on the
horizon.Suddenly clouds appear and al clarity is gone, vanishes just
like the ground beneath her feet.
Was it something I said, he asks. I
don't know, she says. Was it?
She saw a flash
of lightning and then was blinded by it. Now she stumbles through the
dark and someone took her hand, guiding her after he told her: Trust me.
She's thinking
"what do you mean?" while he's talking to her. The answers to his
questions are the ones he so much likes to hear. Meanwhile, she's
thinking "what do you mean?". She's supposed to be glad that he wants
her and that he promises her the world, later, later, some day. He
says: You'll hang on, don't you? So she agrees, while she's thinking:
"what do you mean?". He doesn't know that his words are raining down
upon her like razorblades. He doesn't know that she wakes up at night
sometimes with a pain in her chest and a chill in her bones. He doesn't
know that tears wash away her make-up nowadays and that her pillows are
stained because of that. And she doesn't let him notice, afraid that he
will question her faith in him or her or them, again. She knows that
one day he will be tired of the useless fights she puts up. Just one
more time, she thinks: "What do you mean? " but she already knows the
answer to this one.
She
watches snow fall down. She watches days go by. Everything is like
wonder, everything seems new, these days. The cold is like a brandnew
sensation, it is frisky and exciting. Life is frisky and exciting, and
every day is bliss.
The end of the world is not the end of the world. It is another world, almost dimension.
Her
chest was opened, so they could examine what had happened, all of a
sudden. And they dug deep into her body, just to find that where her
heart should be (and a particularly small organ it was, according to
the coroner's report) nothing more than a bloody mass was found, like
someone stabbed it over and over again. However, there were no entry
wounds and the coroner said he had never seen a case like it. Never had
he read about it in his study books. Never had he seen photographs on
the internet. He is 31 years old. He smokes too much, but only when
he's drinking. His wife loves him, but he doesn't know what to do with
her love anymore. Somehow it started to annoy him, he felt like she
wanted too much of him. He has developed a habit of working late and
often. He visits bars and sleazy motels for cheap sex and carefully
takes a shower afterwards. He comes across a lot of dirt, during office
hours and later. He knows that it stains him, the pretty boy from the
suburbs. But he always comes back for more. He thinks of himself as a
pig, rolling in the mud and faecies. Recently, he met a friendly whore
with a heart too big for this world. Now she's laying on his table with
her eyes dead. Her pale skin bruised, her hands and ankles tied. The
sight of it almost makes him cry, but he doesn't.
It is only
when the night surrounds her and the house is hollow that she feels
alone. She walks the stairs from the attic to the cellar to catch up
with the strange presence she suspects to find, somewhere, someone. A
door closes, suddenly and she's startled. In the livingroom the silence
is made of led. Television starts sound and motion, albeit limited. A
walk to the kitchen, a stare in the fridge. Old cheese and milk gone
sour. Wrinkled vegetables.
She
doesn't stand a chance and boy, does she know it. She's read about this
stuff in books and overheared people talking about it. She never
thought it would happen to her. She knows where it's all leading to.
She can foresee the end even from a far out distance. It's not that
she's stupid. It's not that she's smart, either.
She doesn't know
what to do or how to live her life. She doesn't stand a chance if
someone else takes over. She doesn't stand a chance if people lift her
up and then drop her.
She's
running on empty and she knows it. Her fuel has always been a strange
collision of nitro and glycerine that she's used to keep people away
from her. But in the end she wants what everybody wants: a place to
call home and someone to wake up with. And now her past is starting to
keep up with her.
She's running on empty and she
knows it. It's not so much that she's depressed or lonely, oh no. It's
just the strange coincidences that keep happening and signaling their
mixed signals. It's the food she orders and does not touch. It's the
phone ringing and she doesn't pick up. It's the letters that she does
not bother to open. It's the bills that she somehow doesn't pay. It's
the insurance that she doesn't want to take. It's the feeling that says
'why bother?'.
She's running on empty and she
knows it. She doesn't have a clue wether or not someone is willing to
rescue her and at what cost. She has always paid the price, because she
knew that somehow that was the deal. She has a habit of sticking to
deals she's made. She's made a lot of bad deals. She's paid all dues
there are to pay. She's done that to pay for her own way. She has a
feeling that all of that may just not have been enough.
They had
drinks in two different cafés. She had white wine to start with, then
switched to cocktails. Limited time available, so the crap was cut
short. She thought he was wearing very nice shoes. She likes shoes, if
you didn't know that. She always says: you can wake me up anytime for
three things ... for sex, for cinema and for shoes. But that's just
boasting, once she's gone to sleep she doesn't like to be woken up, at
all.
So back to the
drinks. She likes the guy. She even likes him a lot. And she knows he
likes her. He even likes her a lot. But theres always something, he
said. Theres always just one thing. So they just meet up once in
while, to have drinks. Maybe dinner next week. Shell see. Hell see.
Maybe hell go on holiday. Chase the sun and escape this boring country
with its boring people.
They talk
about women. His women. How to hurt them, how to hold them, how to have
them. She admits she doesnt know the first thing about men. She
doesnt know when to give in or when to give up. She doesnt know when
to say no or when to say yes. He says its because she likes to keep
things simple. And that she should stay that way. By that time shes
tipsy and they need to say good-bye. So they say good-bye and kiss each
other very politely. Maybe dinner next week?
I am tired and I
am alone, sometimes. I drink too much sometimes. I do stupid things,
sometimes and other times. I love too easily, sometimes. I break and
hurt too easily, sometimes. I like people too much, sometimes. I am a
little girl, sometimes. I am a grown woman, sometimes. I am hard and I
am soft, sometimes. I am weak and I am strong, sometimes. I am right
and I am wrong, sometimes.
Its
not like Im crying all the way. Its not like Im saying Im ok. Its
not like youre not going to break my heart. Its not like I didnt ask
you to. Its not like I havent been warned before. Its not like Im
not strong. Its not like Im not wrong. Its not like Ive not been
walking with the Devil all along. Its not like I dont know whats
going on. Its not like I havent tried before. Its not like I dont
always want more. Its not like I havent been here before. Its not
like things havent long been said and done before. Its not like I
didnt know. Its not like I wouldnt pay my way. Its not like you
dont have to go.
Neen, uw blog moet niet dagelijks worden bijgewerkt. Het is gewoon zoals je het zélf wenst. Indien je geen tijd hebt om dit dagelijks te doen, maar bvb. enkele keren per week, is dit ook goed. Het is op jouw eigen tempo, met andere woorden: vele keren per dag mag dus ook zeker en vast, 1 keer per week ook.
Er hangt geen echte verplichting aan de regelmaat. Enkel is het zo hoe regelmatiger je het blog bijwerkt, hoe meer je bezoekers zullen terugkomen en hoe meer bezoekers je krijgt uiteraard.
Het maken van een blog en het onderhouden is eenvoudig. Hier wordt uitgelegd hoe u dit dient te doen.
Als eerste dient u een blog aan te maken- dit kan sinds 2023 niet meer.
Op die pagina dient u enkele gegevens in te geven. Dit duurt nog geen minuut om dit in te geven. Druk vervolgens op "Volgende pagina".
Nu is uw blog bijna aangemaakt. Ga nu naar uw e-mail en wacht totdat u van Bloggen.be een e-mailtje heeft ontvangen. In dat e-mailtje dient u op het unieke internetadres te klikken.
Eventually
life just goes on. You do things, talk to people, go some places. In my
case: I do the wrong things, talk to the wrong people and definitely go
the wrong places. Nothing new under the same old sun, I suppose.
This
evening, it hit me. All of sudden. Just out of the blue. I guess you
catch my drift, dont you, Bill? I didnt think of you this evening. I
never wondered where you were or who with. What were you doing and were
you all-right? All these questions did not cross my mind, until now I
kind of like that.
You
know what I mean, Bill, so dont get upset. You never missed me like I
missed you. Until tonight I wanted you to, but not anymore Bill. To me,
that sounds like good news. Not to love you anymore, not to hate you
anymore, not to miss you anymore Not to wait anymore, by the phone or
for you to want me. Not anymore, Bill. Like I could be free and really
be the one I am.
I dont think Ill dream, Bill, not of you. Not anymore
It
was nice of you to worry about me, but really, you shouldnt have. Im
fine. You know Im fine. You mustve known all along that Id be fine
in the end. I always am. Get back up and on my feet again. Ok, Bill,
maybe I cried a little, maybe I died a little So now I can love you
less and less. In our case, thats good news Bill, isnt it?
But
if you just want to kiss me Bill, thats ok. Well just have good times
and sometimes kiss. Ill sip your fine whisky and well compliment each
other on how good-looking we both are. If you want, well watch a
sunset from a top roof over some foreign city. The sunsets seem to be
real famous over there. Ive read about it, Bill.
Do
you have a plan, Bill? Have you checked and double-checked everything?
Locked your feelings in some basement? Your eyes are so bright, like
they know no sorrow But did you have to? Did you have to? Did you have
to let it linger? You know Im such a fool for love.
Its
ok Bill, really. Just had a bad couple of days. Drank a lot and smoked
a lot. Ate just a little. Didnt sleep that much. Its such a cliché
Bill, dont you see that? God, I hate clichés. Let alone be part of
one.
What
should I do with this day, Bill? A man is standing on top of a mountain
and is asking himself: should I jump? In the end he doesnt. Maybe I
should eat something. My body is craving. Nothing but coffee and
cigarettes these days. And alcohol. Nothing a good drink cant fix, I
suppose.
I
am so tired of these useless things that I do. But I do like the
hunger. To know that I am stronger than my hunger. I like these drugs
that keep me thin. I dont have to use a knife again, or scissors or
that razor blade to feel myself anymore. You know like in: you bleed
just to feel youre alive. But I am past all that now. I mean, I dont
even use all those secret places anymore. You know, the ones no-one
ever sees, except if theyre your lover.
I
hope I can sleep tonight. I hope tomorrow never comes. And if it does,
I want the sun to shine and the birds to sing. I want the air hot and
full of promises, like summer. I want to drive my car, far away from
here. An endless road, I need to find. You held me today. For the very
fucking first time, you held me. And you held me close. Is this what it
takes, Bill? For me to be close to you, I need to be far away? I need
to distance you, push you away and feel bad about it?
If
theres one thing to remember, Bill, remember this: I do not look back,
ever. You know I walk a rocky path on the loom of the land. I walk it
once, and never back again.
Ive
been doing some thinking. I know, its not something a pretty girl like
me should be doing. But sometimes I just cant help myself, you should
know that by now. And Ive finally figured out what is that you want
from me. And it isnt much, is it?
You
just want me to wait for you. You just want to have me in your mind.
You just want to call me when youre feeling sad. You just want to call
me to tell me how well youre doing. You just want me to tell you that
youre good and clean and handsome. And you are all of those things.
Didnt
I tell you I would get you back on your feet, point you in the right
direction and off youd go? I will not even ask whats in it for me.
Ill just take whatever should be mine. Ive been having bad dreams
lately. I wake up with the strange feeling that the world is finally
coming to an end and then I just go to work or whatever it is that I do
to earn myself a living.
Look,
I know I probably shouldnt be saying all this stuff to you. Or write
them down so I could know what it is that I am feeling. I am sorry that
I scare you. I am sorry to be me. I am sorry that I can not take no for
answer. I am sorry for wanting to take care of you. I am so very sorry
for wanting you at all. But I am taking care of business
This
stuff must be boring the shit out of you, I am aware of that. But you
know that saying goodbye is not what I do best. Ill just shoot you in
the head instead .
The
city has been set on fire and the burning went on for 10 long days
& nights. Madness and hysterica everywhere, old lovers quarrelling
over nothing and almost killing each other. The smell of piss and beer
warmed up by the sun in the afternoon and the taste of cheap dope in
the back of your throat. Loud music, suspicious looks, a sudden flash
of understanding. Lets go home, Bill Please
You
know I hate to ask. You know it and you still make me do it and I will
do it until I stop doing it. Then you will have lost me and youll
blame me and every other woman on this fucking planet. See if I care
Bill, but chances are I dont. I mean, not anymore.
I
dont know what you want from me. Maybe you didnt want anything from
me to begin with. Besides the occasional fuck, of course. Or did you
think you were special? Different from any other guy that sees me and
reduces me to a fine piece of ass, or tits, or cunt, or whatever. I
guess you werent. Not different and not special. Almost ordinary and
common. Dont get me wrong, I think youre all right. It just doesnt
keep me warm in the middle of the night.
Back
to the old question again. Am I asking too much? Or are you giving too
little? Too late? I guess you dont know me. I guess you never did. If
you did, youd know Id never do those things you want me to do. Like
take up your space and time and your precious money. Id rather die,
Bill. But then again Bill, arent you already killing me slowly? Not
softly, but quite surely
I promised you I was going to sort things out, and guess what? I did. Well, I made a start anyway. So, that is good.
You
know what? I feel kind of good today. It was decision time and Ive
made a decision. And now I feel good about it even it is a bad
decision, darling. You know, I was all wound up about being like
regular and good. Even made a few phone-calls to people that know some
people that could help me fit in the normal kind of world. But then I
asked a question and the answer was correct. Someone told me I could
never fit in anymore because I have been too bad. So now I need to be
punished and I sent myself back to where I was. Theres no escape,
Bill, not for emotional hooligans like myself. Who was I kidding
anyway?
So,
how are you doing, Bill? Have you had any more brilliant ideas I should
know about? You do know I will admire you, just like old times. I guess
old times are back, now. I have lived too much and too hard to just go
back.
Should I say sorry to all those Ive wounded on my way through this urban jungle? I guess not They deserved it. They had it coming like I had it coming once.
And
I guess I have it coming now. And I guess Ill take it like I took it
once before. You will bruise my body. You will tie me up and put me
down. Once more, Ill be yours alone.
Yet
again, another lost weekend. I was here and you were there and we were
not together, not in any way. Its these drugs, Bill, and you know it.
I know it. I feel more alone with you, now that Im with you. But hey,
you know Im not the girl that misses much. Nothing much at all. And
whatever I could miss, I try to forget about it. I dont keep
photographs or memories. I loose whatever Ive been given. My body does
not remember what you feel like, or taste like or how it was when you
touched me with your hands. My lips are ignorant of who you are, ready
to kiss whoever will take your place to kiss me and hold me and fuck
me. We all get screwed in the end, Bill, dont we?
So
maybe this is the end. Maybe it isnt, who can tell? Maybe youre just
getting old and age is getting to you. Just kidding, Bill, just kidding
Anyway,
I have to get back on track. Sort some things out, or just decide to
ignore them. Look, I know you think you have me and in a way you do.
But in so many ways you dont. I dont even know if you care. Its no
big deal anyway. It doesnt matter if you care or not, because even
this game will be boring me after a while. You know me. I probably just
needed someone to talk to, or maybe not even that. Just someone who
would sit with me for a while and listen to what Ive got to say.
Lets
just follow the sun and the moon. You know I never look back. Whats
the point? Ive known loneliness all my life and Ive learned to live
with it. Loneliness is nothing. I just dont want to remember how it is
and was or could be; feeling close to you
She
watches snow fall down. She watches days go by. Everything is like
wonder, everything seems new, these days. The cold is like a brandnew
sensation, it is frisky and exciting. Life is frisky and exciting, and
every day is bliss.
I am tired and I
am alone, sometimes. 
