Always take time for a good breakfast. You need to go nourished into the flaming void of the new day. Coffee, omelet, croissants, orange juice, pastry, mung bean sprouts, strawberries, bacon and lots of steaks – fresh, bloody and kicking. Satisfy your appetites. Take what you need, or you will be taken by need.
Cordoba is a gorgeous place. The people there are beautiful, passionate, hot-headed, and there might be a unique element in their blood. That red in the walls of every building is no coincidence. There is magic, love, and lust. You should visit. Now! Continue reading “Weekly Horrorscope”
You woke up today, congrats. One down, thousand fifty-two to go. You will fall asleep, and wake up in Paris – for a month. Don’t trust a word what the cats say. There is no truth in a cat’s answer.
Yep. That’s a grizzly. Nope, it’s not the Yeti. By the way, those berries you ate half an hour ago, those weren’t huckleberries. Yep. Pretty much. Continue reading “Weekly Horrorscope”
the template was destined to be wrong.
It took me decades to see why.
history of mistakes added up to delusion
alien failures became domestic madness Continue reading “3Ts”
“I admit, it was a kneejerk reaction,” John shivered. We were both nearly naked and dripping wet. The dive I took into the frozen lake was an accident, and John did his best to rescue me. He had a conscience after all. It was his fault that I broke in, in the first place. So he pulled me out, brought me back to the mansion. The blanket I had on my shoulders started itching. I hoped his itched as well. Continue reading “bruises”
I have to stay awake and write. The blizzard howls. I sit and write, and can’t feel my fingers. Can’t feel anything below my chest. I’m dying, I know.
Guilt crushes my bones. Words carve at my soul, exposing it. Parts of me are broken beyond repair. The void roars burning through my head. Again I am all: starved, thirsty, furious, desperate… For what I did, and can’t take back. I pay.
To whomever: I am. Human.
I’ve been reading Pete Walker’s- C-PTSD from Surviving to Thriving, and some of his phrases really hit me. It clicked with me so hard, that I had a lucid dream about it.
As a surviver I try to find new meaning in my life, to listen to my heart more, and care less about others. I slowly un-learn my adaptations, and try not to be on the edge that often. It’s a process, really. Slow paces up the mountain, sometimes sliding back down. Patience. I tell myself, after all It’s been more than two decades of abuse, that can’t go away that easily. Continue reading “C-PTSD progress”