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    Яαgιи Яαvєи
    Cairo, Egypt
    Wanting people to listen, you can't just tap them on the shoulder anymore. You have to hit them with a sledgehammer, and then you'll notice you've got their strict attention.
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Tapping at my chamber door

In 2008, I'll Get Me A Shotgun

I will also:
2. Get closer to
Job hunt some more.
4. Get closer to my
5. Learn a new language.
Finish at least one screenplay.
Lose the extra weight.
8. Get a
driver's license. I will not buy a car.
9. I will
rule my world.
10. I will have my

« Home | Comme ci, comme ça » | Every night’s last cigarette » | Claustrophobic shelling » | The minutes holding me back » | A banker's box of secrets » | My reason to wait » | V for... hmm. » | It was also shaped like the moon » | Perfect Life » | »

As up as it gets

You wake up feeling empty; like a toilet that’s just been flushed. You open your eyes to the new world; a world too low you can actually touch it. You wonder where your dream went; how your sleep betrayed you, lied to you, unconsciously; how it borrowed your heart for a while then returned it no strings attached... or so it thinks.
You wonder why the world you’ve known and adapted to seems different now. You wonder why the smoke has painted a new black to your walls, a black that you can’t survive alone.
You feel like shaking yourself up, but you’re already up.

This… is as up as it gets.

You wonder if your words mock you now; point at you and taunt you dry. How could faith and heart be so different?, you ask the enduring walls. If only you’d have listened to them from the start. If only you haven’t failed them, they’d have probably been patting you on the back, telling you that it’s gonna be alright.
But you’ve failed them.
You’ve failed everybody.
You look back hoping for a safe journey home, but you can’t see it anymore. You’ve already crossed the line. Home is where the heart lies. You know that now.
It’s hard to un-change. It’s impossible to unfeel. Not this time.
You still hear her voice telling you ‘I’m smiling’. You feel your shattered pieces on the floor cutting your feet. Torn into slices of what matters and what doesn’t, what’s real and what’s not, you bleed.

The walls keep closing in, suffocating you, but you don't care. At least they're holding you, your image, your unbreakable image that you've so managed to paint on the outside of your walls.
You wonder if the ghouls and demons and angels are ever going to leave your head and just let you be. You wonder if that smile on their faces is the smile of truth… or whether it’s a sneer of gloat. You hate them. You hate them badly it hurts.

You look up and pray for God to hold you, to freeze the world so you wouldn’t melt.
You pray to God that she’s doing fine.

You wonder if you’ve been dreaming all along, because no reality could ever be so cruel.

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