Fuck it

I'm sunk in introspection again as per usual. But this time it feels different. I'm rediscovering myself. I just take these moments of flying for what they are. Ephemeral clouds that will dissolve before you can give them that second glace of appreciation. Hoping the same will someday apply to moments of blackness.

Those four numbers, my phone is always showing me, just keep on counting. And I'm going from one fuck it to the next. Hoping one day will find me happy. Cause it was forever ago I remember being so.

16:00

In one hour I'll go and teach someone the love for music.

That's one hour of looking far away in front of me. Feeling small and helpless in front of two legged regret cursing at me. Reminding me how much I've hurt me. How much I've hurt you. And taught you hate and loath. Cause that's what I ever knew.

Pain and addiction. Sadness and addiction. Self torture and addiction. Terror and addiction. Love and addiction.

Instead of listening to brutish shouts and witch's laughs. I say fuck it.

I'll study my piano. My fingers tell me Beethoven was sad too. Fuck it. I'll move my hands to an imaginary choir, singing of a thousand endured deaths for your embrace. Fuck it. I'll go to work out, pushing heavy things away from me, like they're guilt in iron form. Fuck it. I'll listen to books walking at the seaside. This time I hope I stay to the land they take me. Fuck it. I'll write some music. I'm so full of it, it's drowning me. Fuck it. I'll clean my room, my kitchen, my home, my clothes, my body. I never took care of them.

Fuck it. Tomorrow I'll do the same.