Don’t get me wrong. Or do.
I have this few friends, I do know how to speak to them.
But I still got this silly feeling that I speak better publickly.
It’s been a year now.
This gal. She may believe it or not.
She always were one of my outmost inspirations.
Both in art and in live.
She had come to my ‘hood. I had told her that bar had a great coffee brew.
And it did.
Nonetheless, I ordered a fucking glass of whiskey.
(…)
Chances are I was through some kind of a psychotic break myself.
Those are common in me. And I fucking better mind myself up with it.
Anyways. We were at a park after that.
I… I was in love with her.
And she. Well. She confessed to me she was with her bf (some Psysicist) just because he was writing her Ph. D. for her.
At that point my heart was torn to… Many million pieces?
Of course, I did speak to my psychiatrist about that.
He said that was some “desiderative” aspect of my own psychotic break (I thought she was through another… She did be through a lot).
He also told me if she was with her boyfriend out of some “freaking piece of paper” I considered myself capable of writing it as well.
And well… Some other psyquiatrist passed me through a Weschler IQ test at my age 5.
That was how Captchas had to be invented…
In all seriousness. Now I am fat.
I have been uncapable of starting the notebook in which I will (because I just fucking will) write my first novel.
Tons of notes here and there, tho.
I have been weeks now with this weird (and painful) feeling that I need to cry.
And I… I cannot.
Thanks for being here.
