Upside down. It’s the only way I can describe it. I’m in Spain and I think most things I’ve been sure of have brutally been turned around or turned into nothing. I’m not sure of anything anymore; not other people, not myself. I feel two-faced, and I’m fooling myself over and over; I thought I could go down here with class and just keep up every little wall around me I’ve got that I treasure so much, but I can’t. My face, my mask, fell flat to the ground and I’m avoiding everyone, and I even think everyone is avoiding me. Them, him, Spain, the world. Cliffs aren’t high enough, buildings aren’t high enough. My flat is never high enough to be sure falling would be a certain death. I’m trapped. In Spain, in my head.

Being in love means you are completely broken. Every bone in your body, thick or tiny, are shattered to pieces and mending them would be a never-ending mission. Too impossible, too difficult. Like a 5 million piece jigsaw with endless solutions and ways to put it. You can’t solve it, you can’t get the picture straight no matter how hard you try; as long as you’re fighting the battle on your own. I think we’re fighting different wars, you and I. Me, I’m racing time; racing time to be put several years ahead to know everything worked out the way I desire so deeply. You’re racing me, my feelings, my illness to make me stay with you, even though you travelled as far away as possible from me. What you expect to win from it, I don’t know. Love? Security? Trust? Whatever it is you want from me, you can’t have it this way no matter how hard I want you to have it. The shattered pieces of bones like that jigsaw is me and what you did to us. Completely broken. Is that how you want us to remain?

I miss you so much that I’m going insane, all of the time. Well, do you? You’re still the one with that silly return ticket, you’re the one with the key to everything, yet you refuse to wake up. I see you’re talking about another year down under, without realising what that would mean. You’re losing this game, and you’re losing me. No matter what, no matter what I’m willing to do if I had the possibility, it would mean nothing as long as you’re playing to lose. Or are you really that blue-eyed thinking I’ll sit around and wait for you like time and years mean nothing to me? Think again, I’m not really getting younger, nor less stressed up about my future. It’s really fucked up in my eyes, and will remain so until I can be sure of you. Until you’re back in my arms.

So, how’s Spain then? I guess you’re waiting to hear about it. It’s warm and filled with nice and generous people. The beach is heaven to rest your body upon after some of the worst months I’ve endured so far. The sky is mostly blue without a cloud, and the evenings and nights are calm and we usually spend them sat at a restaurant drinking and talking. Talking about life, talking about you. Then comes bedtime and it’s usually then I lose it. Something is missing, I’m not whole. My existence is limping from something I’m longing so much for that it’s starting to feel unreal. I found that aftershave of yours in a store down town and I poured some of it on my sweater. It smells like you but at the same time it doesn’t. I’m starting to think I’m forgetting you. I try to imagine you being here, with me in the dark and that the smell is coming off your body, but I can’t. You’re unreal to me.

I am the fire burning desperately, but you’re controlling me. Release me.

Site Meter

free log