Die geheimen Tagebücher von einer verderbten Existenz

Behind these gates you will hear my thoughts screaming like nerves under the sun and feel my emotion laughing to the empty ether.
Welcome Dear Wanderer, make yourself at home.
The road is long and tortuous and I hope you enjoy yourself.

Fraternally Yours,
Poison Creeper

Sunday, 23 December 2012

in the end...





I have finally cut the final umbilical cord.

Stupid I know but facebook was the only thing that could keep us in touch without talking or actively seeking company (which seemed to be his favourite past times and for me, most hurtful moment of the week).

I will give it another few days then, the telephone number will be next.

It was something unexpected, something that I fell for far too easily.
I should have known it was just a need to fuck, nothing else.
Well that's not for me, not anymore.

I just thought he would have been different this time, something made me think that but clearly I was wrong.
I am just not a regular-casual fuck buddy, not anymore.

Chemistry, meeting of minds, curiosity about one another, appreciation, trust and respect are far too connected to the stale, cold, act of fucking.

I am so sad. I feel so stupid, naive and pathetic.
This is so pathetic.




I felt I was on fire with the things I could’ve told you. I just assumed you eventually would ask. 
— Conor Oberst (via WORDSWITHINYOU)












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