A dream. A romance. A love. In Words.
I think you prefer when the world "together" means not "a million," but just two.
I was one of the insatiables. The ones you'd always find sitting closest to the screen. Why do we sit so close? Maybe it was because we wanted to receive the images first. When they were still new, still fresh. Before they cleared the hurdles of the rows behind us. Before they'd been relayed back from row to row, spectator to spectator; until worn out, secondhand, the size of a postage stamp, it returned to the projectionist's cabin. Maybe, too, the screen was really a screen. It screened us... from the world.
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And then you know suddenly
that everything changed by the blink of an eye
You feel in that very moment you are losing someone
you always loved and thought you are gonna love forever
But then he is gone and suddenly you don't mind at all
and you can't understand how he ever caused you so much pain
And then there is someone new and you know right from the start
that it all will be the repitition of the repitition and you will exactly feel the same way about him as you felt about all the others
You know exactly that it is not true, was never true and will never be true and it makes you so damn sad because
you suddenly realise that your life and what you think love meant to you is only a silly, childish illusion and you talked yourself into believing it so hard that you finally believed it
And then you feel terrilby ashamed of yourself and so goddamn sad
that you are not far away from
Red Wine and Red ...
It's worse tonight.
Was so strong all the time.
I allow myself to be weak
because I can't push me to be strong.
I'm not strong. Not now. Not tonight.
Thinking about ending it all the time.
Admire the people who did it.
Feel lost. And not home.
Red wine. Red.