The decision / Curtain call

Since the first moment I lay eyes on you, something stirred up inside me
I could not really explain what it was
your shy smile?
your radiant eyes?
your small frame?
The way you know what you want, or at least for that brief moment you did know...

It enthralled me...
It made me lose control

I had never experienced such a thing

I came out of a long relationship, and I was in need of something you could not provide


You were taken... In a weird way, but you were

But there is this burning sensation and magnetic attraction that I do not know how to deal with
You can not extinguish this passion I have the same way you burn out a cigarette when you throw it in a small puddle of water: it sizzles for a few seconds and then its light is extinguished...

I can not do that...

We shared a walk, we shared messages... It drew me in.

I am aware I started it and I was, once again, very aware what I was getting myself into....

Such a weird thing to say, would you not agree? "I would tap that..."
I did it for two reasons, as I told you: test the waters and try to get a reaction out of him

There was no reaction from his side, but you did react to it apparently

Did I raise the bar too high for my own good?

Maybe, maybe... That time it was my raw emotion and the alcohol and cigarettes talking more than my rational side

I casually talked to you that Wednesday, wanted to walk with you, get to know you a little better
You took, once again, the initiative and asked if you could swing over, I agreed, I just wanted something, I did not know what, I still do not, but I wanted it

You worked, I organized the mess that was my room, but we both still had scrambled minds... we should have made sure that our minds were tidy before we did what we did, but passion is not rational.

The moment passed, we showered together, shared laughs as we rinsed our bodies from what had happened. It was not bad, but it was not that great either, we both secretly knew it.

You spent the night, unexpectedly, even had a toothbrush with you, you swore it was not planed, just like all the evening we had spent together, but it was convenient, just like the evening, I guess.

We looked forward to the day proper, the day in which we had agreed to meet....

I prepared dinner, got some decent wine to lighten the night and our minds. We shared stories as we ate the meager dinner I had whipped up. I did not notice anything weird by the time, but I guess in hindsight some questions were weird.

I still remember how you looked at me as you rode me... that funny half smile half frown that you make... its funny and weird, but its... fitting, attractive.

The second night felt like two black holes colliding, each eager to devour the other, to make it part of itself.

You had left your bike out... that was a sign. Did I know what it meant?


Did I want to interpret it as such in the heat of the moment?

Definitely not

I can still smell the scent of sex and your taste in my lips from that night... It felt good.

I was not able to finish either night, maybe that bothered you, but since you had already made up your mind you did not consider it important to raise up...

You had told me you would not spend the night this time: last night you and me had barely gotten any sleep and we had to go to work on the next morning. It was the rational thing to do...

Should I have stopped you?


You left, the bitter taste of an unanswered question lingered in my mouth:

Will I see you anytime soon?

You just half-assedly smiled and rode your bike home.

It was not a ten speed, would have made for a funny story since that is the title of a song of my favorite band.

As I saw you ride away into the night, tears started swelling up in my face...

"Keep it together... keep it together till you are home and nobody can see or hear you weep" I told myself as i struggled to open the door, climb up the stairs and open the door to my flat.

Once I was in the safety of my home, I broke down.

A stream of insecurity and loneliness covered my cheeks

Bitter tears of unfulfillment were slowly covering my bathroom floor... I went to the door once more, vented my anger with one punch that barely scrapped my knuckle.... I was not even to properly express my frustration...

I crawled into bed.

No youtube till passing out tonight, just the blissful silence of the cold winter night entering my room through the small crack of hope that was my window. The sound of the quiet night soother me to sleep and I, at sometime, fell asleep thinking that I just wanted the pain to go away.

Automaton for Friday, that is what was in store. I be damned if anyone at work is going to see me weep. I had to run away some times to catch air, to not drown in my own emotions, frustration, despair, loneliness.

At the time I did not understand my feelings and emotions, it was a short lived thing, I knew it had no certain future, if any future at all...

But I later realized, 24 hours after I had talked to you, what was happening to me.

It came to me while I smoked a cigarette that Saturday night on my balcony after a long gaming session that should have eased my mind.

I want her

I want her

I want her damnit...

What was it again? 3,75% if I recall correctly

Those were the chances you and him had established for a person of finding their ideal partner.

Then why could I not be granted the chance to try my luck at it?

Winning the lottery was less likely, was it not? And you had said it yourself, well, he did... I deduced later that you were not as much into the whole open relationship thing as he was.

You were looking for freedom to engage in sexual activities, but were still afraid to fall for someone else... That much was clear to me after giving the whole situation some thought. You were probably feeling a similar attraction that I was, but you had a commitment and I was still mending myself after these past  years.

I talked to S, he invited me over to talk, we shared parts of our past, shared some tears together just like that Saturday night that I met you and S and I stayed up late talking about what a relationship entails.

We had things in common... more things than I had ever had with M...

Am I a fool?

For sure... But that is not negative in my eyes, it drives me forward.

Suddenly you also arrived, I waved you hello as if nothing had happened, as if everything was fine.

Once S left, I waited for you.

I still do...

You came up the stairs, I asked if we could talk, you invited me to your room, I stayed next to the door, probably because I knew that I would be making use of it in the near future...

We talked, we opened up, I asked you to not bullshit me with an explanation that bordered you selling me the idea that you were doing me a favor by not pursuing this any further.

"If you think we did not click for you, just say it!" I demanded "Please do not assume what my thoughts and emotions are or try to dictate what they will be, please do not do that"

You looked down and realized that I was right.

"Ok... I did not enjoy Thursday as much as I thought I would"

Did hearing that hurt?

Like a bitch

Was it better than not knowing what the next steps were?


Even as I write this I do not know what goes on in your head... your smile frown that forms under your small nose and those glimmering eyes conveys nothing to me, I have to ask what is going on in your mind, if everything is alright. But you did not trust me to be strong enough to take the blow that Thursday night, little did you know at the time that not knowing had hurt e even more, but how could you?

You were thinking and feeling for both of us.

Destiny forbid I am right... but you are going to end up hurt with the way the things are... you and him are not on the same wavelenght... you have hitched that ride because it seemed convenient at the time taking into account your past experiences, but I doubt you follow the same easy going attitude towards the relationship he has... I hope I am wrong, I truly do.

But why am I addressing this to you?

What are the chances you will ever read this?

Close to 0, but there is, just like in my heart, the glimmer of hope that tells me that maybe you will read it, maybe I have a chance.

Am I a fool?

For sure.

I left that night, feeling that you would cry after I did, I know I was going to break down as soon as I crossed the threshold. And I did.

I unlocked the bike, lit a cigarette and rode home, regret falling emanating from my eyes as I slowly made my way into the night.

In a movie you could have asked me to stay.

In a movie I would have asked you to stay.

This is not a movie, this is the theater of life and the curtain had fallen on that night, closing the act.

I thought I was not going to hear from you even as I longingly stared at your profile picture.

You did write, asked what my plans were, I did the same. I again considered it to be the last message.

It was not...

You keep writing to me, responding, being somewhat playful...

How am I to deal with it?

Am I to consume my soul in the pyre of passion?

Am I to fade in the sandstorm of sorrow that lashes at my heart?

Am I a fool?

Without a doubt.

What the future entails... nobody knows... we write our own scripts and I, for one, have decided how the next act is going to look.

Have you done the same?

Are you feeling something remotely similar?

Can I trust what you say, if I know you do not deem me strong enough to deal with reality?

Somehow... it is not important.

Having you present in my life means a lot to me, gives me purpose, gives me direction.

You will most likely never read this, or maybe you will...

Will I write you a letter just like we playfully said we would today? Will I dare?

"I will toss a coin and decide based on that."

Only a fool would do that.

I do not let fate decide for me, I take life by the horns and push with the force of an immovable object in the opposite direction.

You may be unavoidable, fate/destiny, but I will not give up without a fight.

S said: "You have two options: you either talk to her and risk rejection or you let it be and accept it"


Nobody but me decides my fate

I grab it with both hands, I pull it towards me and make it my bitch.

Tomorrow is a brand new day, and with every new sunrise, there is a new chance of improving, of learning, of growing, of overcoming... of living.

For that is live: getting rejected and not accepting it, fighting against it with all you have. Not in a brutish kind of way, but in the smart way.

Tomorrow is Sunday, and with the herald of light I will take my chances.

I kiss you goodnight on the forehead just like on Wednesday and hope that I will be able to do that at some point in the future.

My chances are slim, but better than none, and I cling to that for dear life.

You swept me off my feet, and now it is my turn to do the same.

Get ready for the new act, hear the orchestra playing the first notes of the vals of life, in which we all spin around between the madness and sanity, not wanting to stop for fear of death but afraid to spin out of control.

The curtain opens

The lights shine on my face

"Here I come" I whisper as I take a step forward


The Anchor

After having suffered from a series of unfortunate events, nothing tragic as such, but certainly life-changing, I decided it was time to visit a shrink and get a professionals opinion on the feelings and thoughts that were going through my mind.
It has been some time since I visited his practice and had, until recently, been taking the medication he had prescribed alongside some CBT therapy. At one point, however, I decided that I had to face my inner demons by myself, armed with the accumulated knowledge and the experience I had gathered up to this point.
I knew it would not be easy, that there would be days in which i would feel completely and utterly destroyed emotionally for no reason, no matter how hard i worked or fought against it.
It felt as if I was carrying with me an anchor that could, at any given point, drag me into the depths with it.
I knew the risk, I knew the odds, I knew the likely outcome, and yet I braved it all.
Until the day that it was just too muh, the anchor was slowing me down, dragging me down, getting me down.
Nothing brought me joy, happiness, even just contentness would have sufficed, but it just didnt come.
So I took the final step...
I decided to write about it and tell others how living with transient endogenous depression is like and feels like, what getting up in the morning knowing you have every reason to be grateful for but being unable to feel it is like.
I decided to open up to the world, to give, to anyone that wished for it, the opportunity to drag my anchor with me.
It would not make it any lighter, but it would at least not be as lonesome as it used to.


On healing from the past

Its become widely accepted that every human body has a different regenerative factor that determines the rate at which it can recover from injury and illness.

Later it was established that, in the same fashion as the body, each mind also has a rate at which it recovers from stress and trauma.

Today I found out how long I needed to recover from such a stressful event: 9 months and 4 days.

I didnt intend on working on that issue of mine, I didnt even think about it, but somehow, in the middle of a conversation about it, I discovered that I was ready to confront it again, thus proving to myself that I had finally made the last step towards a complete recovery: facing the past head on.

I believe that no therapy or deep introspection would have better prepared  me for the realization, it just kind of happened. I guess that my mind had been slowly cooking the idea in my head up till this point and today was the great reveal.

It was a strange feeling, a different feeling, freedom in a weird way, no more chains holding me to the past, instad I have the futur to look forward to and I can imagine myslf freely talking about it.


The house by the lake (PS: Epilogue)

Years had passed since the day on which I had found your lifeless body in your bed.
A smile on your face, the gentle rays of the sun illuminating the room, a gentle breeze that moved the curtains of the windows.

You seemed… content.

I was at first broken. A small child with no mother, a lot of responsibilities that I now had to carry on my own. Debt, joblessness, depression.

I found some solace in music and made it my passion and my sole purpose for the following months, neglecting our child and my responsibilities. I had some savings that I made use of during that time.

When I played the piano you felt alive again. I escaped into a world where you were still alive, ill, but alive. I could tell you about my worries, about my fears, about how our child was growing up, how the house we had acquired was slowly turning into a home thanks to your love for detail and good taste.

During the piano sessions, I was free.

But then came the crash…

The savings, which I knew could not last forever, did indeed run out.
Social services deemed me unfit for parenting and took our child away.
My family decided that I was too much of a burden to take care of and stopped writing to me and inviting me to their lavish celebrations.

I was alone, broke and alone.

Looking back I doubt I would be where I am today were it not for the pit I dug myself into. Maybe, deep down, I knew that the only way for me to rise was to burn everything to the ground and build it back up from scratch.

It took me months to find a job and a few years to regain custody over my child, I was lucky though, since to this day they have no memory of us ever being apart.

The passion and despair I felt back in that time fueled a torrent of emotions that helped me produce what, to this day, is considered one of the best, if not my best work.

I have gathered the courage to write what I hope will be the first of many letters. I know it has been a long time since we spoke… I would not be surprised if you hated me a bit for having taken so long, but I needed the loneliness, I needed the despair, the depression, the depths of the pit to claw myself out of.

Alex is growing up to be a fine child. I take them for long walks in nature and tell them about the different trees, I tried getting them into music, but it seems that the musical part of us is dying with me. Who would have guessed though, right? Child of two musicians refuses to partake in their parents hobby. I guess that is how children are, they have to find their own way after all.

I am doing fine now, I know that there are other ways I can get in touch with you, goodness knows I needed this, but was partly afraid, partly too numb to realize.

I hope this letter finds you well.

I promise I will be sending you one of these every month to keep you updated on how Alex and I are doing.
Yes, I promise I am fine, you do not have to worry now, I am capable of taking care of everything. Except decorating the house… that is something only you could do well… Alex does have your good taste though, so I let them buy decorations every once in a while to give the house a more homely feel to it.

My studio is sacred though, I need the chaos to reign absolutely supreme in there!

I have to go now, Alex is ready to go out bird-watching and is beckoning me to hurry up.

I loved you, I still do, and I forever will.

Yours only,



Like a moth to a flame

I can distinctly remember the moment I was mesmerizingly staring into the flame just one second shy of his sickle slitting my throat.

In that flame I say a great deal many things:

beauty expressed through my beloved walking through a barley field, the soft breeze gently swaying the picture with a loving caress.

Love through a fiery and sensuous night of carnal desire and uninhibited lust.

Promise, a small child slowly walking towards me, bright eyes, playful smile, not a worry in the world.


But as soon as those soothing images had vanished from my head, I saw the other side of the coin:

Famine: a small child starving as the obese walk past him, greasy food in their hands.

Ugliness: a corpse washed up by the shore, its entirety swelled up and putrid.

Loneliness: Myself strolling through the empty streets of the biggest metropolis imaginable

I saw all those things and more the moment before the sickle sliced my throat, and now I am trapped, condemned to relive that moment again and again along with the rest of the victims he claimed for his amusement.

Now and again we can avert our eyes from those visions and see the real world outside the lamp, the only distortion the green, eerie light that emanates from us and to the world of the living through the impenetrable glass of the lamp.

The world has changed.

He no longer inhabits the isles, he no longer murders for fun. He has yet again become a shadow of his former self, now fighting in the league for some bigger purpose than himself.

But here we are, trapped, for it was ruled that, since we give him power, we are to be the sacrifice made for the greater good.

We were attracted to the lamp like a moth to a flame, and now we shall inhabit it forever.