Coffe & Cigarettes

Yes, I know I said I wouldn't write here, but you obviously can't escape the internet anywhere in the western world.

Anyway, I am at the old folks place and things have transpired better than I thought. Maybe not as perfect as I hoped they would, but better than I feared. So despite the fact that it felt like the whole weekend caught up with me in just a few hours, yesterday was an OK day. I slept pretty good.

I think they know more about me than I think. About the stuff that is written in the Project. I think I might have told them about some of it. But I don't remember that! Why don't I remember that? Why do I remember things that are wrong? It doesn't exactely make your trust issues any better when you realize you can't trust yourself.

Today started strange, however. I recently looked myself in the mirror and realized that I don't know who was looking back. I'm not getting crazy, I just realized that I don't know why I look the way I look anymore. I'm standing there in my black jeans and long hair and Machetazo T-shirt and studded belt and tattoos and I don't understand why. And the worst part is that I don't know why I feel like that. Am I trying to find something new? Or find something old, but hidden and forgotten? Or is it the vile third option? The most despicable, lowly and totally in vain third path (I can't even write it)? Or am I being nostalgic? Am I trying to be what I should have been a long time ago? Or do I just want to look good and feel good about something? Does it matter? I don't know. And I feel my reflection can't be me until I know. But I don't know if I want to know, because the truth might break my back. On the other hand, that is the way I have promised myself I won't be. No more hiding.

It is not comfortable. But it is as it is. I've always fought so hard against other people influencing the way I dress, the way I am, the way I look. Maybe this would be easier if I hadn't. All this. I don't know. Maybe I would know why I don't recognize my reflection as myself. I've just felt that everytime someone tries to tell me what I should wear or what I would look good in I just want to run in the other direction, because it has felt like... Like I'm not enough. Like I won't do.
But right now I just want to be pretty.

Yesterday left me with some sense of relief and that is that this might work out in at least a material way. I just don't have the energy or the attention span to do much of anything. But I am trying, OK?

I understand things so slowly. I hate it. So slowly.

Don't know what is happening with the project. I can't be finished yet, can I?

Well, screw this. I got to take the mutt for a walk. Smoke some cigarettes and inhale the fresh country air or something.

And for all of you people searching for Blasphemy related stuff... Do you find anything interesting here? And how much of this blog puts you off?