Monday, 2 November 2015

the animal

Life is like a train ride with the same people in it. 

Because they don’t rotate much after you’re done with high school and after that everything just seems still and it ended up even being stuck working for a few years afterwards or at least I had hoped. I ended up having my mind strangle all possibilities and end up and the thing is that no one tells you how scary it is afterwards. No one tells you how you’ll feel as if you have no control. 

It feels like right after my parent’s divorce when reality has the darkest colours you’ll ever see, that it will bend harsher and harsher, trying to do a straight edge. It will end up being a sharp angle to make sure that it could cut surfaces. 

There is an even sharper frustration with all the phone calls with my parents with no direct explanation why had I done it. Leaving it days behind and allowing me to miss the fact that I had no friends. That I had wanted nothing with those who would say that I cannot speak openly for gay men even if I happen to be one. I think that after that anyone would be able not to do anything at all with the people who had uttered it. 

I had no messages which only proved the fact that the desire to ditch talking was more than mutual. It just started feeling lonely after realizing the fact that the people only spoke to me because I had spoken to them.

I had locked myself in the room for the past few days and still managed to call the parents to come up with some lie, because it was still the end of summer and University hadn’t started yet, so I could still be anywhere, only with the fact that I had started using the money by starting with an Acne leather jacket, feeling a bit unfulfilled I stopped there for the time being, feeling even more idle, sitting in the McDonald’s opposite and watching everyone just scramble through their lives, somehow knowing everything and having friends. They had lovers too. 

If you fuse too much, then the mind will be the same. I wouldn’t even understand where I end and where I begin and how far fetched the earth was, I just felt heavily dipped down in depression with no medication, allowing the whole world to be entirely dark.

Blocket had no apartments available. Only rooms for the whole city and even then it was a bizarre question of pure luck with no love. Maybe life would smile more, knowing that there is absolutely nothing to offer you. 

I don’t think people understand how dire the situation about the apartments is because there is literally nothing other than odd scams and weird stories which pass from mouth to mouth, which I’ve heard the trans guy say in the apartment I rent the room from. He always widens his eyes, walking around in a crop top with his black binder being seen around the neck, as I wondered if it actually bothered him, but upon further questioning one night when he was entirely hammered and laying around in the corridor, saying he had worn it for the past fourteen hours, that it didn’t matter, since his surgery was scheduled so soon. I wondered how did he even have the guts. I watched him lying on the floor, everyone else gone and entirely tucked in bed, probably about to step out and tell us to fucking shut it. Instead I just watched him twirl and turn until I had to yank him up and chuck him in his room, watching his shaved head be the last goodbye. 

He would tell of people who would get kicked out from the oddest of reasons like putting their name on their door, the actual landlord knowing nothing that their tenant was renting out, to last minute scams where everything was dropped and you’d be left in front of an apartment with all your stuff. Some would list apartments as rooms with shared kitchens in shackles, some would rent out their garages just with a broom to state it’s an apartment and out of desperation you take absolutely anything, feeling nothing else tickle your bone because there is nothing. 

And I would try to explain that, chewing on candy I had bought earlier, allowing the University to be in the same city, allowing it to be less suspicious of what I had decided to use the money on. 

Sometimes frustration on my parents would get the best of me as they had kicked out my brother, Tom for the sake of fake names on a notebook, that he had sucked some guy’s dick and they had walked on him being all frisky and all. And that had pissed me off, that they just stopped giving him money and even if we hadn’t been close enough to talk, that pissed me off, not even that I had no idea that he was also gay, but the fact that they had entirely let him go and allow God to take care of it. That had been their response, let God just solely take care of it. That God would deal with it. How can you even say that?

By the time I had asked Julien that, he was just done with my whole story, eating his toast with jam. He just looked at me with empty eyes, telling me to tell Dick instead. I just shook my head, saying that I had told him that already. Well, then he sighed, looking at me and saying that perhaps I should stop whining. 

Maybe he was right, but I still felt lonely, watching him wash the only dish because Peter would yell at him for every single dish left unwashed after every single meal. Then he’d accuse of stashing all the dishes, as if we were some creatures hogging some fine china. Julien just coughed, as if he wanted to be excused and I made him way from the tiny Ikea-filled kitchen with all the glasses being from every possible country, but still being impossible to differ from the ones you’d drank from last. 

I would go out to the city, just to eat out wherever I could, having a good meal among a bunch of other people talking very loudly, making me feel more alienated, making me realize how bad my language knowledge was and how huge the barrier was. And I wasn’t the only one, people would complain on the forums how they had lived here for twenty years and that would drive them on and on, no friends, no lovers, just them and their movies. They’d manage to binge all of the X Files in one day, no longer seeing where would time end. I wondered if that was how I was going to be in twenty years. I wondered far too much, now clutching myself in the room, no longer feeling the desire to even go outside, knowing the streets around nearly inside out and no one was celebrating Halloween anyway, so the vampire teeth were just for me to enjoy. I should’ve bought candy but instead I ended up watching horror movies alone in the dark, hearing Peter bring some friends over which were lying on the corridor, passed out already and someone was surely a one night stand. 

I shouldn’t even be writing this down. I feel my eyes bloodshot from the lack of sleep and movie watching, marathoning the 30th right into the 31st and 1st’s skull. 

I wished of far too many things. 

I could hear Julien making his way outside, and I only pondered on what he would be eating now, but it seemed like some odd diet of fruit and vegetables at first, until it dawned on me that he was vegan and I had heard it from Dick, who had spat in Julien’s food, saying to never leave food and he then watched Julien eat it. 

I felt as if I could take photos of this place people maybe would budge and open their doors and instead of selling apartments like dead weight they would rent more, but people wanted money fast just like anyone else and somehow the prospect of waiting years for a large sum was better than renting out. But then maybe there were studies to prove otherwise, who knows. 

I just felt more miserable. 

I felt like hiding even further in my room and prospect was surely dark, but it seemed to give an excuse to stay inside and hear all the noises of the six people apartment which was driving me wild and comfortable that no one would bother to walk in with me in it.

Paranoia. 

Paranoia drove us all to live, desire to kill was just inflicted heavily by fear, it was more than just a mere flick of the wrist, it was pre-murder.

Murder. I would laugh as Julien would say it as he would speak of animals and I’d be eating yoghurt in front of him, just to piss him off, saying that a cow had died, 

had died,

making this delicious strawberry yoghurt. I was said that yoghurt didn’t come in beef flavor just to piss him off even more. Maybe I was becoming more like Dick, getting far too pissed off at people. 

The only reason I had gotten out of my room on Halloween was to get some candy from Lazarus who was the neighbor who always asked us for sugar, just because he craved it. 

I watched him eat it spoon after spoon, as if the pick and mix wasn’t as hurtful for him, but instead he’d do that and he’d always ask me once the stores would close with a mere text and that is how with an aching racing heart I had to walk outside into the corridor, fearful of running into anyone and I go to Lazarus, the cunt and he just greet me with a small nod. We had traded games before and it had ended on sugar. 

-

To be honest I took some time off to try and prepare for Nanowrimo. I've started new medication and I've been having a really heavy depression as I'm getting used to them. It's been awfully hard, even now I'm forcing myself to write the backstory. I've been staring at everything besides the document and day 2 started. I reached day 1's goal. 

The idea came to me from living in different places and I kind of wanted to head on address what it's like being a foreigner and living in Sweden and so on. It's not as paranoid and depressing though xD but it's what I wanted to base it off and tell about the apartment situation and how it's like to live and share your space. 

I binged all this chapter yesterday entirely. 

The first phrase came to me ages ago and I just held it dear.

I kind of kept this year's Nano idea heavily under wraps, because I wanted to surprise everyone and don't worry I miss not doing To Miles this year, but TM is the only story even when heavily depressed I know where I'm going with it and what to write because it became my blood really. 

I kind of want to remain quiet for once on the backstory and let everything tell by itself. I'm qute open here, I've been more brutally honest these days. 

I've been so depressed that Callie had been putting on different music to cheer me up and one of them was No Control by 1D (yes, I'm trash xD and I'm Gryles trash) and that was the first song I wrote this story to.

At this point I have no title. So I'm thinking about it right now xD this was actually a working title, but I like it and I'll go ahead with it :) forgive me xD

Thank you

<3

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