Dissection.

I woke up, dead as usual, but I kept hearing a song in my head. And on my way here, to the pre-post-mortem building, I kept on thinking about its lyrics, on what they mean to me. Well, here goes my translation of such song, one of my favourites, of one of my yet favourite bands, ladies and gentlemen - The Queens OF The Stone Age:

  

"...Like Clockwork"

"Everyone it seems
Has somewhere to go
And the faster the world spins
The shorter the lights will glow"

 

Yes...everyone else, it seems, indeed, has got somewhere else to be, to be with. Even this Thing, that so erradicaly writes shit on this so-called "diary" of my life, I had to be somewhere else, away from my very own mother, who, as usual, turned herself into the "Drama Queen" she oftenly transforms into. Just because I got home, and went staraight to my so-called "Beggar's Gym"...I just had to, make some grunts, lift some heavy things, to put some of my anger off my chest. And when I was done, she was at the kitchen, washing all the pots I was supposed to wash, but oh no, she couldn't wait for me to do some workout, she had to go and it herself, to prove a point - that I am an awful son, I guess. Just because I didn't go to wash them straight away. A rather complicated person..."It runs in families", so to speak. And when she gave me the "silent treatment", so to speak - so I just had to go as far away from her as possible. And yet, the world somewhat indeed seemed to be spinning faster...and out of my control. And it made, quite so, the lights to dim faster than they used to. So, I just finished watching "Mary and Max" - a rather bittersweet tale, which reflected a lot of aspects of my life...turning me sad a bit, and then I decided to go to bed. There was nothing else to do - The Drama Queen wouldn't forgive me, I was alone as usual, even more lonelier than usual, because of the feelings stirred by such film I just finished watching, took one -and one only - knock-out pill, my clonazepan, saviour of insomniac endless restless nights, and hid in the sweet warmth of the blankets and my vivid imagination, about a love I don't have, nor ever will have.

"And I'm swimming in the night
Chasing down the moon
The deeper in the water
The more I long for you"

 

Just as explained before - I was lost in my dreams of long-lost love, one I so much desire, but, alas, I'm doomed not to have it.  Monsters like me, awful sons like me, those who seeks the abstinence of having people around, will never, ever get. Even though it consumes what's left of this dried up heart of mine.

"Most of what you see my dear
Is purely for show
Because
Not everything that goes around
Comes back around, you know"

 

And, just like that, most people, often strangers, that would stumble upon this very blog, would agree - like his own mother, he is, indeed, a "drama queen" himself. Due to his yet to be healed disease of the mind - just like Max, on said animation - or his own pride and prejudice, a victim of his own ways. But I wished, oh how I wished, that the last part of this verse was indeed true - becuase I'm doing quite the opposite these days - repeating my own errors, succumbing to old temptations, sucjh as my need to smoke coffin nails, only to shorten my time on this mad world.

"Holding on too long is just
A fear of letting go
Because
Not everything that goes around
Comes back around, you know"

 

A fear of letting go...I suppose everyone has it. I know I do. i fear of letting go of this misery I'm immersed so deeply, this hole with mud on my feet, and that people and events of everyday's life just keep on throwing me fucking shovels, just to dig deeper, and try to reach rock bottom. That will indeed happen, like I predicted, before the end of this very year...if everything, this called "last hope" fails to bear fruit. This will be myself going out of the stage, banging the door. 

"One thing that is clear
It's all down hill
From here"

 

Yeah, it is. If everything goes awry, it will indeed go downhill...and fast. We're already in August - I just got until December to see if hte good ol' Dr. Miracles will prove me wrong...if not, then...Bang he goes.

"The love line in your hand
Cleverly disguised
All the promises of stone
Crumble in the night"

 

Love line? Cleverly disguised, indeed. I see no such thing on my hands, none of them. Adn yes, all promises of a real, stone-hard, promise of passion, of love, it crumbles before my eyes, day by day, night by night, each lonely night I spent wrapped up and comfortambly numbed by clonazepan. The only thing that switchs my fucked up mind off, the only place I still find a kind of peace...even though it is disturbed, sometimes, with dreams, like the one I was sure to had this night, but can't quite remember. I think it revolved around me coming back around, to what I once called "sunshine in a bag", or in the pipe. Fucking weed, that I am no longer using, but I feel, deep down, that I still yearn for its effects on my head. Yes, I do. Just like I smoke these coffin nails, trying in vain to feel a glimpse of said effects on this fucjked um Neural Central System of mine.

"Most of what you see my dear
Is worth letting go
Because
Not everything that goes around
Comes back around, you know"

 

Yeah. All that will read these deranged lines will agree. Most of what I have, most of what I show and tell, is worth letting go. But I'm yet to find a way how. Psychiatrists, Psychologists, meds - I'm doing what I can, to try and change these twisted notions of my life...of what I learned, or rather, think I lived, throughout all these wasted years I'm "alive" on this merry-go-round Globular Hospice. But contrary to the last lines of this verse, they do come back. All of the wrongful things, they do. Always and always, like my Ouroboros. I'm that. Ouroboros. Full circle, repeating itself, forever and ever.

"Holding on too long is just
A fear of what's to show
Because
Not everything that goes around
Comes back around, you know
Not everything that goes around
Comes back around, you know"

 

Those first lines indeed translate a subtle message, I've kept hidden, from me, from others, from everyone else, for fucking seventeen years. The fucking closet, so to speak. And even if I already opened it a little, a tiny crack, all I yet see outside is...darkness...fears, I'm not yet ready to confront. Or will never be able to, now that the deadline, so to speak, has been drawn. And the repetitive versesseems to confirm my own fears, about it all - about what yet to show, if I dare myself to cross this final line, but...I fear this will NOT be done in time. Not before the deadline happens.

"One thing that is clear
It's all down hill
From here"

 

And that's the punchline...will it be too late? Will anything good happens to change this mindset of mine, before the end of this so-called, "last year on earth"? Before the already set dealine?