"I'm your good old friend. well, maybe not good. but a friend", said She.

I'm the background girl. I'm the support girl. I'm the attention girl. but I can only hope that the few people I care about are safe tonight.

yes, I said September was amazing, as it was indeed, because although it might seem vampiric, I need human matter to be happy, not to slow down, to push myself forward. but I have to be honest with myself and admit that I'm only hiding what makes me uneasy, not solving the whole thing. cause today I realized I'm not able to search for serenity in open spaces, landscapes and silence any more. since last spring I've been jamming something inside me with loud music, alcohol, smoking; with people, again and again, thousands of gestures, words, associations; meetings, events; with concepts that absorb my attention and won't let me go down into the deep structure as there's so much going on up here, on the surface. I used to laugh at Her flat mate, who out-talked all her depression; she would never let the other person have a word, as if she'd been afraid that she would hear the voice of her own conscience. what is it. that stain on our thought, the one we fight with the white hum, with the noise, throwing bullshit out through all possible canals. what is it, what is it now.
I don't seem to know.
I wasn't happy before either, so no, I don't think I'm lying to myself here and no, I don't blame myself – at least now people are within my reach, it's important, it's good and it's healthy. but I'm not able to be with my own thoughts, with myself, openly, overtly. instantly, I start looking for someone, whose voice would destroy this intimate quiet.

I met Her, sober, though it's hard to believe. so theatrical a meeting, twenty minutes in the heart of the city, at 2.30 a.m., Her wandering look and as usually all effort not to let the conversation get real, not to let honesty in. I kissed Her on her forehead, She kissed me back on my lips. and now silence again. She's the star of the sea, She'll decide herself when to surface again. I want to know She's safe.
I worry about people, I worry how I'm gonna manage and I moan way too much.


and inside that memento photograph there will always be a part of me. I know.