Hate Me

I don't want to be me anymore.

I just want to be like everyone else. I want to look like everyone else, dress like them and speak the same way they do. I want to be just part of the crowd, conveniently invisible. I don't want to stand out, stand apart or stand alone anymore. I want to have the same views, the same morals, the same ideals. I want to listen to the same songs and dance to the same beats, so that i'm always in tune with everyone else. I want to hate the same people, and have the same vices so I can be hated by the same people and be buried with the same people, at the same time. I don't want to be alone, I don't want to stand up for myself. Even if did, I want to stand up for what everyone else believes.

I want to be like everyone else. I can't stand to be myself anymore.

Laugh While You're Dying

... you thought I had disappeared, didn't you?...

There are some days which are harder than the others. Make no mistake, I know that life is tough. But some days, they take your breath away. Not in the good, romantic, cliche rom-com way, but in the gut-wrenching, merciless hand of death kind of way.

It leaves you just gasping for air, your lungs suddenly collapsed, unable to fill your body with what it needs. You are effectively drowning in a vaccuum.

That is me right now. Tired as hell, and suddenly I hit a road block and I can't climb anymore. I stop, bend down with my hands on my knees and I just take in as much air as my lungs can find. My oxygen-starved brain is almost completely numb, and yet it manages to get one signal through.

And I start to laugh.

I laugh at the harshness of the situation, the stark unrelenting truth of circumstance. I laugh at fate's cruelty, and my futile attempts at succesful living. I laugh at the injustices that surround me, and my inability to wrap my head around any of them.

And I laugh.


If this life kills me, I will die laughing.

Return To The Scene Of The Crime

I do not enjoy my return trips to Park Row. But I understand them.

I wonder if anyone is curious about ‘Park Row’. Park Row is a silent, empty and desolate place. There are not many people here, but those that are here keep to themselves.

Park Row is the place that changed my life. For the better or for the worse, time alone will tell.

As I said earlier, I do not enjoy returning to Park Row, especially since I do not spend all my time here. I have my ‘good days’, days where I allow the sun to shine through once in a while. Days where I can enjoy myself a little bit, and almost forget about this side of town.

But I always return. Either I am forced, or I am drawn back.

I think it’s important to remember your past, remember the heartbreak, the wounds, the scars, the fights, the wars – which is why I always return here. I stand on that corner, looking down the street again, and I pay my respects.

I don’t enjoy returning here. But I understand it.