Affaire de coeur

If I can wake up and tell myself that everything was a joke, I’d be happier. I’m afraid of myself at night. I keep telling the truth. It’s not good for my health. It keeps fucking up more and more. Till there’s nothing less to fuck up. I keep thinking that there’s something but there’s not. Tell me, how more deluded can I get? 

I should just keep living a lie. See, it just sounds wrong like this. Who the fucking hell would in their right mind tell themselves to keep living a lie. Obviously you would just want to see the truth, and you would want to be true to yourself and your feelings right.

If I’ve ever been egoistic and high up there, it’s when I didn’t say anything to you at all. Even if this kind of logic sounds twisted, it’s true. When I decided to confront you, I decided to give in to my heart. But the consequences to bear, the actions to take, I really don’t bear to.

Because I can’t stand another day I have to look past you, avoid looking at you, have nothing at all to say to you but boring questions, no laughter, no smiles, look at you when you laugh somewhere and I feel an aching coldness in my heart. Say I will do what it takes to get over things. Saying no more big hugs, ceasing contact, is like cutting away a part of me. Not doing it is worst, throwing those parts into fire and watching it burn and crisp.