(Picture by Bjørn Venø)

I’m sitting on a bench in a world that I do not belong in.
people walk past me but I do not recognise them, they are alien to me. I can
feel the truth of my words in every inch of my body. I was not meant for this
world this society, reality has made a mistake.

 

I’m withering a way, with no spark or desire to continue
living in this farce of a world. Let reality fold in on itself and let me be
who I was supposed to be in the world I should have bean in.

 

But at the end of the day I’m the only one to blame, I’m the
failure not the world. It is that realisation that is killing me faster than a
bullet to my hart.

 

I thought buy telling the world about my pain I would feel
better, I made 6 pictures that were well-received by my pears, but it did
nothing for my despair.

 

I have met a wonderful girl that is just perfect for me, but
she cannot see who I am. Maybe that makes my pain heavier or maybe she is the
only one keeping me alive. I do not know…

 

I just want to feel that I’m not the only one who does not
belong in this world…

 

I can not face up to living, I just want to escape in to
fantasies were everything is so much easier, to worlds were I do not exist,
were I observe grand events and people of myth.

 

I want to feel alive, I want to be happy just because I can
feel the wind on my skin, but the world is a farce and I’m a mistake. I’m
someone who cannot be complete because I’m a contradiction, I need to be
assertive and confident to achieve what I want but I’m shy and reserved. I have
to fight and struggle against ten thousand men to be who I want, but I fall
over and collapse within minutes.

 

I have not what it takes…

 

Let me die now…

 

Oh please let me die

 

For if you can not feel happiness, pain, achievement,
desire, love what is then the purpose of living.

 

The world is wrong, I’m a mistake, let me die or let me be
who I am, I do not want to be trapped any more, but I do not know how to be
free…

 

I should not be hear, I should be in a dungeon wearing latex
trousers and a gimp mask worshiping women, having bizarre sex with loads of
people, giving pain and pleasure, feeling, laughing being free… I don’t want to
be a good boy dating nice girls, I want to love the slut and for her to love
me, but for the slut to be more complex then a stupid slice of meat. But that
life is always out of reach, I always fall in to the life of the placid little
boy who does not live… who does not explore who false in to and disappears in
to the mundane… I want to shock and surprise and thrill and live and feel the
knife of the world against my skin as it tries to force me in to being a fool,
but I’m strong and define who I am. But no… the world shapes me in to its mold…
and al I want to do is die… fast and effort less

 

But I will not take my life, because I cling on to the fragment
of hope that one day I will brake free… then the world shall see what it means
to be alive and glorious… I shall shine from every part of my body, my ass
shall shit golden eggs.

 

I have illusions of grandeur, but I am not grand I am not
special I’m just another prick in the wall.

 

I am my own prison, I have no enemies but my self, but he is
the worst enemy any man can face, for how can you stand up against your self,
how can you just free your self and be alive…

 

I want to die

 

But I hope that I can free my self before I do, for that is
my purpose of living, to free my sole… to be who I am… to indulge in the
delights I so desire… but I can not indulge in them on my own and I can not indulge
in them with my beautiful girl for she dos not desire them, and she is the best
thing that has happened to me for a long time… 

 

The question is… should I show her these words, for if I do
it will not be fair…

 

But she needs to know who I am…

 

But she knows

 

But does she understand

 

 

Will my depression end if she gives her body to me? For me
to do absolutely everything I want with her? But is that what I want? The
answer is no for she needs to give her self to me because she desires it not as
an attempt to relase me from my depression, for it will fail…

 

But is that the source of my depression? That I cannot live
the sexual life I desire?

 

I doubt it, but just maybe that
is the case, maybe that is the only way I can feel passion and desire again….

 

But there most be more to the problem than that…

 

Will I suddenly no longer have a problem getting up?

 

Will I suddenly be able to concentrate on my work?

 

Will I suddenly be able to do all the boring things I need
to do?

 

 

Will I suddenly be able to feel alive?

 

Maybe that is the problem that I cannot indulge in my dark
desires….

 

I want her to be something she is not,

 

Am I trying to be something I am not?

 

Can I just not be happy on my own?

 

Why do I need somebody else to make me complete?

 

I’m just shifting the problem form its source…

 

I should be able be complete on my own, another person
should only supplement you

 

But I’m not complete, I am the problem because I can not be
who I need to be to met a person who complements me. Why cant she complement
me, she is perfect in every way except in being free…

 

I want to be free from my self

 

I want to be happy

 

I want to feel alive

 

World let me live, let their be a place for somebody like
me…

 

 

 First written: 24/05/2007 21:25