Voluntary blindness

You know what it's like and I feel as if I'm suffering from a condition better known as voluntary blindness. But my heart, oh my heart... it needs glasses.

Dead

For years I've watched two people in their own little story. Standing next to her, reassuring her everything would be okay when it came to him. Fight after fight, witnessing what in my eyes was and still is true love. Standing on the side line only to find myself in the same position. Wrapped up in the same lies.

Snow fell by surprise and I fell asleep in it. But I did see death coming. Right here, right now. Dead.

The ice is getting thinner

There are times when life calls out for a change. A transition. Like the seasons. Our spring was wonderful, but summer is over now and we missed out on autumn. And now all of a sudden, it's cold, so cold that everything is freezing over. Our love fell asleep, and the snow took it by surprise. But if you fall asleep in the snow, you don't feel death coming.

Lusthuizen

In mijn wereld krioelt het van de lusthuizen. Is het niet in de vennootschapsbelasting, dan is het wel op de straat die ik vaak passeer. Nvdr: lusthuizen in de vennootschapsbelasting zijn nét iets anders dan lusthuizen op de Chausée d'amour, maar dat had u hopelijk al wel door. Over de Chaussée d'amour gesproken... Vraagt u zich nooit af met wat die wichten hun tijd doorbrengen? Telkens ik een leeg venstertje zie, begint mijn grijze massa te werken. Zit er niemand omdat het een slechte bar is en er dus geen personeel aangetrokken kan worden? Of is de dame in kwestie gewoon bezig? En met wat is ze dan bezig? Met het verrichten van een seksuele activiteit of het verschonen van haar lakens na een seksuele activiteit? Of misschien maakt ze zichzelf een cocktail? Ze is misschien beter zat tijdens de werkuren? (Dat is pas een arbeidscontract...) En hoe zit het met die vensters? Kunnen die tijdens de werkuren niet gekuist worden door de schaarsgeklede dame of moet nu echt die glazenwasser komen die ongetwijfeld een extra sponsje voor handen heeft... En waar kijkt zo'n jongeheer naar? U merkt het wel: ik trek de zuiverheidsgraad van zo'n venster erg in twijfel. Goh daar zit de échte onderzoeksjournalistiek verscholen. Wat een pareltjes zouden dat zijn...

Guilt

From left to right, up and down. Guilt. If there's one feeling that has been jumping around in my body for the last week than I guess that's the one. Finding it's way out in stupid fights, stressing me out, turning my stomach upside down, making me run until I fall to the ground. Reminding me even more how much pain it cost me to live without, even though I'll never admit it, there wasn't a day I didn't think about. Just don't let go, I'll try to hold on. Guilty, until proven innocent.

Mr. Brightside

Cleared for publication

Now I know how it feels. I brutally murdered him, crushed him into a number of uncountable pieces and made all of his hopes and dreams fade away. Mixed feelings whilst doing it, knowing I had the power to do to him what he did to me, last year. In a different kinda way. He broke my heart with his present, I broke his with his past. He didn’t know and he won’t ever know how much pain it caused me to do what was asked of me. It hurt so bad that I couldn’t dry my eyes ‘cause they kept on refilling with the tears that I cried. So yeah, it kinda felt good when she said what she said. The awful truth, I know. But all these feelings keep pushing their way in. I should have noticed him 3 years ago, before he became incapable to love someone else but her. I know now why people say that love and hate are almost one and the same. Because they are.

-written a while back-