"I've been believing in something , so distant..."

I guess I'm not gonna give up; I'm still sticking to these old,ripped and cracked principles.

And I don't understand my actions and feelings towards others.Feeding Coly, buying bread and groceries, net, music, sleep,checking emails,checking for updates, food,books, other stuff,,, night comes.

Is this all you want? - No, but I've got used to this unknown constant self-conscious guilt.

I think to myself that all of these anger and frustration that I’m eating up, is taking over me now. It spreads like a harsh green poison, I can feel, opening way straight to my brain to explode it up. I clunch to the nearest thing I can find, pressing it hard, hoping that my mind go blank

???….Fuck U. How dare U

He stops the car. “Go ahead, walk the rest of the way. It helps U clear up ur mind”

I reply in a joking tone: “of course it does” and I get out of the car. Letting all of the damn thoughts hunt (not haunt) their way straight towards their….

“?…have U ever felt like an ironic hand is piercing ur heart and throat”

It is smothering me dear, not letting in enough air to my lungs.

???What the HELL??? WHAT

I have my baggie pants on, with a loose uniform, white shawl, white shoes… just the way I used to look like. Why on EARTH did U EVER tried to change this kinda looking U fuckin’ piece of shit? HUH??? What the hell was so wrong with it??? Gimme an appropriate answer otherwise...

[sigh]

Trying to imagine ur figure when u were shaking ur hands goodbye. I love that figure ‘cause it’s urs, and I hate it ‘cause it mean goodbye

I pour in another bottle of vodka in my mind. Pouring it in within seconds. Then another one. Then another… until I feel like I’m out of this body, watching the little fragile figure from the outside. And while all the anger and sadness inside her is mine too, yet all of her feelings feel so stupid and funny and unimportant

It has been a long time since the last time that I was able to feel this way, I’ve given up on drinking just as I realized it was nothing more than another kind of disturbance…

I try to focus on Evanescence’s song, tourniquet, the part which Amy shouts: “I want to die”. Then I start to repeat it over and over. Hoping that the pain will drown it those words… (like it used to do before)

It doesn’t.

I have U and U as my backgrounds, all the way

Elevator. Leaning to the door, pressing my forehead to the cold steel.

It doesn’t.

I’m cold. I’m dead

But I make U this promise, I will never let myself  turn depressed. Never. Ever. I’ll keep that promise…

another text massage 4 me. FUCK. Leave me alone. I don’ wanna hear any other shit about that. Jus’ leave me alone…

FUCK

شنبه
زير نور شمع الكتريكي م. انجيل مي خواند و به صداي باران گوش مي دهد. صداي باران از راديو و صداي باران از بيرون، توي كوچه و خيابان.
به تمام چيزهايي فكر مي كند كه در واقع بهشان فكر نمي كند.

يكشنبه
به تيره تر شدن همه چيز فكر نمي كند. مچ پايش هنگام دويدن پيچ خورده؛ كفش هاي لعنتي اي كه دوست دارد.با كف صاف. صاف تر از خط مرگ.

دوشنبه
احساس له شدن بايد برايش عادي باشد يا نه. وقتي زنگ تفريحي وجود دارد كه زنگ غير تفريح است. {علامت سؤال}
چه حرفي مي ماند وقتي دلش مي خواهد بغلش كند وقتي از خاطرات هاروارد مي گويد و يادش مي رود كه نسكافه اش دارد سرد مي شود. و مي گويد كه دانشجوي خوشحال را دوست دارد.
دارا.

سه شنبه
آه!  " و خدا سه شنبه را كوه آفريد"
سردرد او را احاطه نكرده، او را از درون پوسانده.
"تمام بوسه هايي كه نثارم نكرد. تمام حرفهايي كه نگفتم. تمام سايه و نوري كه براي تعقيب بود. تعقيب زندگي در امتداد خطوط ...
به كدام گناه در آتش تو سوختم..."

چهارشنبه
ولو شدن روي زمين خوب است.و چيپس و ماست و سيب زميني و سس.
و هر چه كه دورش كند از...
بيچاره يونگ كه در كوله حمل مي شود و خوانده نمي شود.

نگاه سرزنش آميز را نمي پذيرد كه يعني "بازم ماگ؟...كلكسيون جمع مي كني مگه..."
توي آني كه رويش نوشته I LOVE NOWHERE نسكافه درست مي كند. و فكر مي كند قلب به جاي كلمه ي LOVE روي آن را چطوري پاك كند.

پنج شنبه
براي اولين بار دلش مي خواست مي رفت سينما و فيلم مي ديد. اما بايد درس بخواند. چون درس دارد و امتحان دارد.
استادي مي گويد "درس" و "مندرس"هم ريشه اند. "درسي كه درس نشده باشد، درس نست، حرف است." و از اين جور حرف ها. اين مال كلاس امروز است. براي پنج شنبه اي نامده.
درس مي خواند اين روز را. يا شايد هم...

جمعه
چهارشنبه شب وقتي روي زمين ولو شده بود و مطالب مربوط به اسكار را مي خواند، يكي از همان ستاره ها و خورشيدها و ماه هاي شب تاب محكم مي خورد توي سرش. سقوط مي كند. و علاوه بر درد، نه تنها حس نيوتن دارد. بلكه دوباره غده ي سقوطش عود مي كند.
جمعه ي نامده، تو هم خواهي آمد...

[I slap her hard] : What the hell is wrong with U?! Haven’t U been waiting for this for so long? So what is the hesitation for?!

-          There is no hesitation. I just can’t believe it yet. I’m afraid

-          [sigh] I don’ know what to do with U

I turn to leave. There is no need to continue this conversation…

-          [sob] Please don’ just go. There is not much time left…

I just take a quick glance back above my shoulder; Then I walk away. Ignoring my tears

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