Записи с темой: адресно (список заголовков)

Please, head, stop thinking

"I don't want you to be hurt and I'll never hurt you myself".
"I wanted to spend more time with you".
"I have no one here so I'll have a lot of time".
"I promise".
*month passed*
Done waiting til Senpai notices me.
Fuck you. Fuck your promises.
It hurts.

@темы: мои друзья пидарасы и наркоманы, мне норм, адресно, Рокки и Бульвинкль


By this moment you must be already home. Not reading this, because we both don't want you to. But stillI I leave these messages here.
I'm already disappointed in you. Several times, I guess. But still.
Is the first love a curse that one does not simply get rid of? Is it a cross that they should bear for the rest of their lives? Guess not. Some forget it, admitting it's over and there's nothing to bring back to life. But still they remember. Memory's not a thing you can simply dump or burn like old photographs that remind you of something you don't want to remember. You don't want to, but though you do.
I don't know why I write it down. Like, I won't forget it anyway, so why?
Why can't I just let go? Why don't I want to?
That is the question.
I already gave it up, believe me. I gave up longing for this need of returning you back to my life again. I gave up sending you messages you won't ever reply. Why can't I fucking give up loving you? Is it because of a selfish bastard-in-love I am?
Why don't I want to?
I know I was wrong all along, annoying you with my "special feelings" and something I called "exprеssion" of my love you've not ever needed. I admit that. Those history logs put me into that silly condition, in which I don't know if I should laugh at my own stupidity and selfishness, or burn myself with shame and explode with all that "sorry-I-was-stupid-let's-start-it-over-hi-my-name-is-Stan-and-I-want-us-to-be-friends"-shit you, once again, don't want to hear and even see me again blah-blah-blah. But this time I need to say I'm sorry. Even if you don't want me to. Even if you don't fucking remember my fucking face or even my fucking name but I fucking NEED to say I'm fucking sorry for all that silly fucking shit I fucking said all the fucking way long.
Because all I can't let go is not you personally, but my own stuck-in-high-school-Ego that wants you beside no-matter-what-because-I-say-so-bitch.
I just needed to spill it over the pages of my diary, like a jar of blood onto new snowy white bed sheets.
Call me a maniac. Call me a self-loathing self-torturing maniac.
Maybe I have to wait until the next Christmas and be a mr. Good Behaviour AND ONLY THEN Santa Claus will bring me some piece of what-I-call-"the-Redemption"-shit I crave so badly for some reason. Or I can just let it go, BUT WHY DON'T I WANT TO? Why do I want to fill myself with expectations instead of understanding that all of that shit you and I did to each other has to stay in the past and nowhere and no-when else?
Well, guess that's where I stop. I've just happened to see it and understand it just perfectly.
And now I wonder if Naruto is as selfish and stupid as myself with all his "I'll-bring-Sasuke-back-even-if-it-was-his-own-decision-to-leave-I-don't-care-because-it-is-my-ninja-way"-shit. That's where this fiction character and myself are alike.

Seriosly, Stan, give it the fuck up, I'm begging you.
- Your common sense (of humor)

@темы: адресно, 50 оттенков Барана, я, снова я и гора трупов


Пафоса и вечной любви "ванильный" псто

А я опять хожу по старым местам, воскрешая в голове те многочисленные приятные воспоминания.
Всё ещё остаюсь сопливым романтиком с надеждами на счастливый конец, что то, что мы не общаемся — это такая фаза, что в фильмах обычно длится от силы минут десять — когда главные герои ссорятся, и от этого расходятся их пути, но в конце они всё равно будут снова вместе, назло всем и вопреки всему.
Я всё ещё люблю тебя — это говорит мне подсознание, делая тебя более частым персонажем моих снов, чем я сам.
А ведь мы никогда не были вместе.
И близко.

Тут слишком узкий подоконник, иначе я бы писал этот пост сидя на нём, закутавшись в клетчатый плед, с телефона и с чашкой кофе в другой руке, и с сигаретой в зубах. Но тут слишком узкий подоконник, и слишком поздно для кофе.

@настроение: это умрёт вместе со мной, как мне кажется

@темы: я, снова я и гора трупов, 50 оттенков Барана, адресно, дорогой дневник, сегодня я убил шлюху



Despite my hatred fills me up like with burning oil, I wish you well.
And I hope your dreams will be fulfilled and you get what you want and become someone for me to be proud of.
Once you were like a father to me. Then like my elder brother. As the time was flowing by, I saw you as you were my little bro.
And now, before I finally see you as a stranger, the time has come for you to be like a son to me to be proud of.
Hope I will get over this murderous devotion to you and stay alive.
To finally let go.
Of my devotion.
Of my desire.
Of my freedom.
Of you.
Of me.

And then to start it all over again.
Without you, of course.
For I wouldn't need you in my life anymore.

But still when I close my eyes I see you.

@темы: адресно, 50 оттенков Барана


Лизы это касается в первую очередь, да

Мне нет нужды растягивать этот пост на тысячу символов. Я просто люблю своих ребят, сильно.
Блин, Лиз, я скучаю. П-Р-И-Е-З-Ж-А-Й-Б-Ы-С-Т-Р-Е-Е
Шо ж я за сопливая херня.

@настроение: ёбаный ноль

@темы: адресно


Brand old chapter

I just do not know how to explain this. It comes every time when the autumn rain comes.
You know, I always loved when it rained. But not now. Always wanted to walk with you when cold drops of water wet your hair and your face. When you have to run home just to stay as dry as you can. When you live.
You know I loved you. Maybe I still do (for I need an explanation or even an excuse for the fact I can't stop keeping you in my mind). Or it's just one of bad habits that remain now after I met you.
You know, I always wanted to know you better. Better than anyone in the world. But you couldn't trust me for some reason. Was the reason the fact that I loved you enough to sacrifice just anything I had, including my life, just for you? Or was it something else, like that I was the only person that loved you at all, apart, of course, your parents and other family members? Or was it that you loved your cousin enough to call him a Brother with a capital B and talked me off my feet with his greatness and how you wanted to, whatever, get laid with him, I don't care.
You know, it's true that I can't forget you. I'm not sure if I still love you (not that much, but still), but I still care about you. Still care what do you do, who you spend your time with, where are you at the moment or something. I still do. And you still do either. Not caring if I do.
You know, I always told myself that all you were saying in your text messages was under your emotions, that you didn't mean it in your heart. Like if you had one. I had believed that you had. But it didn't work out. No making it up, no saying sorry for anyone, just goodbyes.
You know, I don't believe in what you sad to me like you just used me all that time before we finished school. I know it's not right, but I'm happy to know that I helped you, even a little. But what I really did for you wasn't "just a little". I gave you my soul ripped to shreds in every piece of job you gave me every day. And then you got lost for all the summer. Every year.
You know, I really loved you. But you don't know how it feels to love someone. You only can wanna fuck some girl or maybe get fucked by a male family member, whatever, but you don't know what it takes to Really Love someone. Not being in love, but to Love. I probably don't know that either.
You know... Ah, you don't. Nevermind.

@настроение: With eyes wide shut.

@темы: дорогой дневник, сегодня я убил шлюху, 50 оттенков Барана, адресно



И всё же...
ЧЁРТ ПОДЕРИ, только не опять!
...я скучаю.

А времени, наверно, много ещё придется потерпеть.
Могли б сейчас идти мы в ногу, но, верно, выбрал я гореть.
Ведь да, конечно, безысходной всю эту стори сделал я,
И не вернуть её к исходной... искомой точке бытия.

Ты так Хотел, чтоб всё Забылось. И с глаз долой, из сердца вон.
Но и потом чтоб повторилось. Но я не розовый тот слон,
И бегать за тобой не буду, не жди, я сам уж не вернусь
Твоим бессменным лизоблюдом. Но надави — и я согнусь.

И в том единственную слабость у духа вижу своего,
Что ближе будь ты хоть на малость — и гордость как рукой сняло.
Покуда ты, так безразличным придётся быть тогда и мне,
Но знай, что вижу преотлично твоё лицо я в каждом сне.

@темы: я, снова я и гора трупов, моё, стихи про асфальт, 50 оттенков Барана, адресно



У меня всегда всё должно быть просто, если это меня не касается.
Если всё не просто, то отъебитесь и не грузите меня пожалуйста, упростите выражение, прежде чем ставить меня в тупиковое положение, предлагая мне десятиэтажную дробь, гордо добавив при этом слово "решай".
У меня всё может быть сложно, я уже ни к кому не лезу со своими проблемами. И просто потому, что это сугубо мои дела и ДА, Я НЕ УМЕЮ СВОРАЧИВАТЬ МНОГОЭТАЖНЫЕ ДРОБИ СВОИХ ПРОБЛЕМ до привычных двух "за" и "против".
Ну а вы не спрашивайте меня, что вам делать, если вам всё равно не понравится то, что я предложу. Эгоистичные сволочи.

@музыка: Poets of the Fall — Carnival of Rust

@темы: адресно, ЁБАНАЯ ТЕМПОРА, СРАНЫЙ, БЛЯДЬ, МОРЕС ©, я, снова я и гора трупов, мнение, самомнение и прочая поеботина


It just rushes through my veins. Failure. My middle name. Or even the first one, I guess.

Changing seasons, changing minds
Minutes run and days go by.
Fly me over spiky hedge
Please, take back your hopeless pledge.

I know that I can't rewind it to the point I could convince you to change for me. I know that just because I know there never was that point. I wish it was there, but it's not right. And not even okay. I used to be a forgiver, and where I am now? On the edge of sanity, deep underground, six feet under in space, in 5 seconds to the center of the Sun. Whatever. I'm just dying here, without you.

When I'm gone you will be free.
When you're free you'd see me bleed.
When I bleed it all and out,
Will you shut your fucking mouth?

Every time. I remember it. I remember the bloody hell all of that lousy shit you've put me through. Using me, abusing me, cutting me to the last drop of blood I've left with your shitty cursed words. Left me there out in the cold, dark and silent abyss of despair. I remember that. I also remember your face. Your voice. Even your fucking smile.
You're not going anywhere, are you?

@музыка: Robert Downey Jr. — The Futurist

@темы: адресно, 50 оттенков Барана


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Ну а что я скажу? Нет доступа. Текст потерялся. И вообще. Конец всему живому.
Ищите ниточки. А вообще это тупо бессмысленное нытье о том, как все ужасно, плохо и вообще...


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