Suicide.

Forgive my constant iterations of this elegiac event. Just like the true passing of someone or something held dear, the affliction will not subside easily and i am left gasping for air everytime the tide washes over my wounded shores.

Last night, it culminated into a harrowing zenith of tears and a necessity to scream and shout, but no one would hear my cries, no one would sedate me. The joint feelings of sorrow, regret and a plethora of other dire emotions assailed me. My defenses would not hold and i soon fell to the inexorable surges of hurt.
You say you feel tortured by what i feel? You have no idea what i’m feeling. How can you? When it is so easy for you to move on to a new lover.

Last night, he died. He has gone to be with the love of his life, the little princess who dances to the melodies of the wind.

You have stirred my ire, but i will not resort to puerile tactics. I wish you both well, but make no mistake, both of you are dead to me. (perchance with recovery, comes the possibility of forgiveness)
And you will not find me, not even with your Columbian instincts nor your dulcet calls for my return (for i will no longer heed).

I am grateful to Jack, Alvin, Ning, Will Sheff, Jens Lekman and most importantly my father. For being there when i felt like my heart was about to explode.

~ by cryhavok on December 26, 2007.