L'oubli

I used to make love when I had headaches, back then. Now all my body is sore. What could a little creature with black eyes do to me? To someone who was on the verge and said: "not now", someone that is no brave. I now ask the brain particle that gets rotted in my skull: "when will you end?" I am the paranoid that thinks all the world got together to destroy me. Yes.

When I want to live like these unconcerned women that wear daisies right on their ears, I now feel the thorns that stab my brain lobes through my skull. Still, those silence movie frames that go through my eyes, make me feel like I do have a brain. I once heard this sentence from a very bizarre animation movie: "Remembering is a more psychotic activity than forgetting." Yes. It exactly said this. I at least know that I am not a psycho. I accept it, like the people who agree with all these descriptive sentences. Yes, I am not a psycho. I am at least not this. I forget everything. I forget the people I thought I would never forget, the moments I said I would never forget, all of them... I one more time will fade away with my emotionless frame of my mind that hit the bottom till there is no even a tiny memory in my mind. How wonderful! I will become a goldfish soon. There won't even be a memory to forget. Who cares for someone who doesn't even remember a frame from his life? I now know the difference between saying, I don't remember and I don't know. That would be: NOTHING...

My Name is Paranoid

My name is Paranoid. I once left my girl supposing we could somehow get back together. I now smoke cigarettes to forget. I think, I did. If I didn't, why would I be even writing this? I am one of those idiots, who think that all the details of life are stable. I'm as paranoid as to pull the trigger that's put in my mouth. I never let the priority, don't I? Has anyone done anything before I have? Have I got anything to be upset with so that I can also be happy? 

That day, I glanced at my coffee on the table and exactly said this: "Do you know why people get happy?" I continued without waiting for another question over mine. "Because they know that some people are not." How could a person get happy if he knew that all people on the earth were happy? If all these people around the world were rich, being poor would be something wonderful.

There was an only one song in my head after these eternal discussions. Soul Kitchen by The Doors. Morrison said this:

"I light another cigarette,

Learn to forget."