i hope you’ll get better soon thowe could go and watch a movie or something.

i saw a lot of things during the past two yearsi’m thanking noone.

Nantene T.

i used to get hurt too fucking much. i used to fall on everything, and bleed, and bump into walls and scream because it made bruises on my skin, i was 90 lbs and alone, falling, bleeding, and alone. one night we were high on opiades and we drived straight into a wall. i was driving. while i was inconscious my friend said, i was hoping you would do this. the friend, the scooter and my head were fine. we got back at his house and we took pills with the others.when i look at the scars now, i hope that someone will touch them someday and understand what it is to live in your own private hell.

oh my love is that you again ? i recognize your eyes, i recognize your smell, i recognize everything i remember everything.

what i remember best from this mashed period is joy. love and joy. i can’t re-member the taste of drugs but i know deep down they were here too. i can see their blue satellite eyes - and their fair skin i remember the smell of our bodies when we were asleep, early in the morning, and the laughs we had under our dark circled eyes. it had surprised me to re-member joy and love instead of the massive chaos we created together.

NO, DON’T.

people change and their faces change too .

for the white bride i saw and didn’t recognized in St Petersburg. i loved a guy once. he dumped me and i cried for almost a year. i never cried again because i dumped every guy i’ve dated after him - they cried and they took pills because of me, but i still did it. Why ? am i so afraid to lose every-thing again ? am i so afraid to be hurt ? some say love is not a game but it is. you win. you want to win. you aim to win. that’s love, that’s power, that’s life. get used to it.

a friendly reminder that you weren’t there when i needed you i drawn myself for so many years, looking up to your head through the neuro disease wich was eating me inside. i don’t hate you anymore, but i still don’t

like myself very much.

i took this crap in Berlin. if i had a proper camera it could have been a great picture but instead it’s just crap. i was drunk in a bar and i loved the lights on the toilets walls - i spent half an hour watching the lights here. my friends were hanging tough inside, every-thing was made of glass and i had just entered a new phase inside my sweet depression, i had xanax pills wandering in my pockets. it was one of those days when i whispered to my wrists «please get better», but they didn’t, thank god it was winter i didn’t have to wear short sleeves. the scars healed - my friends died.sometimes i just want to look at the ceiling and pray a god that does not exist.

beautifully self-absorbed

my name is Casper the fucking ghost tell me you like me the most tell me you like me the most

i cried on the train when i saw there was none to haunt

i remember this day because i was happy. i was feeling lucky i was feeling ok. I don’t want to die anymore, because i’ve grown up, but for how long ? i wanted to collect memories because they’re hauting me and i hate them. i made so-mething up, as always.

of course i made things i’m not proud of. i lied, i cheated, i hurt people i loved. i also made good things. i made drawings and i wrote. i stayed alive. it is not the proportion of bad things and good things you do that make you a bad or a good person. i don’t feel sorry anymore.

june 2014