Unter dem Mitternachtshimmel.

I often feel like this is not the only life have lived. Like I've been given a second chance, only to fail, only to be brought to same scenario of doom, only to watch as my roses wither again. My experiences seem to be playing in the back of my mind a thousand times, and will do a thousand times more, until I'm filled with unrealistic memories. Sometimes I feel like my body is a soul that thrives on nothing but misery; I've been avoiding pleasure, I've been heading down. Sometimes everything I want is everything I see when I close my eyes, and sometimes, when I open them, everything I want is that one thing I can't reach. 

I often feel like this is not the only life I'll live. Like I still hadn't had enough from this world. Like I still hadn't overdosed from everything and anything I could. Like I still hadn't climbed enough montains, faced enough storms and been shoved into enough abysses. No one can tell how deep in wounds I am inside, no one can see my inner erosion. I don't want want to make it out of here alive. I don't want to make it through another day. 

And yet, through it all, I often feel like this life is not being lived by me. My life is just caprice. My memories are a mad joke I play with myself - and what a tremendous, what a monstrous joke! 

Dobranoc,

SRK.

strangelove, depeche mode.