passion

passion

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July 8, 2018

I’ve hated my father since I was 14 years old for all the abuse he put me through for so many years. Since I was 14 years old I told my mother on the day he dies I will be truly happy. It’s no surprise that Jansen feels the same way when he goes through his episodes. I was the first one to become mentally ill which was also triggered by him. He choked me. Told me he liked doing it while doing it. He did the same to Jansen when he also became bipolar. And we both agreed at some point that his death will somehow be a relief to the both of us. It’s hard to fake everything with someone who has caused you severe trauma. It’s funny that he’s a Christian. By the way, I’m not a Christian. I gave it a shot until I became a nihilist when I was nineteen. It wasn’t a choice, but sometimes I think that suicidal people turn to nihilism. But that’s another story, and I think this is enough to get out of my chest. Writing is better than breaking things. Writing saved me from breaking things. But that’s also another story. 

True Love Is Like Poetry

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True love is aesthetic
and destructive just like poetry.
 
It demands deep feelings
to be understood.
 
It’s the cracks where flowers
grow between the words.
 
It’s the real thing than
it is the echo.
 
It’s listening.
It’s empathy in its most
sexy form.
 
It’s music.
It’s a random act of kindness.
 
It’s spontaneous
like breaking something
and saying sorry to someone.
 
It’s powerful.
It contains formlessness
and it always compromises.
 
It’s in knowing that
you know nothing about anything.
 
It cannot be explained
and it’s mad but in a good way.
 
It’s hard work.
It needs a lot of editing
and forgiveness and learning.
 
It’s the teacher of the broken.
It’s an autobiography of time shared.
 
It’s familiar.
It’s a place for expression.
It’s a place for what we call home.