The house of cards inside my head has collapsed. His death was the last cold wind it could take, and the cards all came down, strewn across every part of my mind, a chaos of thoughts overlapping each other. It was inevitable, despite my efforts to keep my composure, keep it all together. Sometimes in life we need everything to shatter, everything familiar to become unfamiliar, every comfortable routine to become uncomfortable.
The past few days have been filled with both achievements and defeat. While I overcame a great fear of mine by coincidence, it also made me realize how fear has taken over every other thing in my life. While I thought my daily dose of melancholy and nihilism were signs of mere boredom with my suburban living situation, I’ve realized it has nothing to do with that. It also has nothing to do with my lack of inspiration or motivation to do what I love. It’s defeat to a fear that’s been too powerful for me to face. The cards all blinded me, and while I focused on trying to fix one card at a time, I now realize I should have looked at the bigger picture.
I have only faced death four times prior to this. His was however unexpected, a stab in my heart that partly broke me, partly woke me up. I look at my hands and realize they’re the hands of a coward.
I fear old age and wasting these times of youth so many regret not being grateful for enough just sitting here, without purpose or a lust for living. I long for change, I long for that place where I found myself, I long for that work I used to live and breathe through – yet fear I now realize is stopping me from doing anything.
Will they ever change? Or will fear continue to blow my cards down to the point where I won’t even bother trying to stack them all back up again.
Have I really worked hard enough? Will I ever?
I fear loneliness as it creeps up and whispers to me at night, and I try to cling to every person that provides some comfort. It’s a dangerous game I’m playing. I played it too many times before, trying to give those cards with my heart stamped on them to anyone that I hope can provide me with something. I’m gonna fall in love, and it will be a fake love, it will be infatuation in disguise, and they will know it just as much as I will.
My body will become poetry, it will become Baudelaire and Eliot, it will become the night and I'll give it away to those who want it, if anybody ever will.
I feel a shift in things, and every bad decision hurts even more. Yet, old habits are hard to change.
Will they ever change? Or will fear continue to blow my cards down to the point where I won’t even bother trying to stack them all back up again?
Will love be the only salvation, like it used to be? And will I ever find it here, where it seems to have run out?
His death was a bullet that hit me where I was already bruised. The purple spreads, and I wonder if the wounds will ever heal. My cards are wet and the colors are starting to blend into each other. Soon I know that I won’t be able to tell any of them apart.
Suburbia keeps me from writing, and I wonder if that's what I was meant to do all along. Right now it feels too late. I've run out of words and I've run out of love.
His death hit me like a bullet, and I need to get out of this place. I know I can. But fear keeps me from booking that ticket out of here. Will I be alone on my birthday? Does it even matter?
Fucking shit. Why does my head keep lingering on a future I know chances are I won't do anything about?
I kept on looking for the Joker and realized I was it all along, the final card I was looking for for so long. Too late.
Life hit me like a bullet and I wonder if the wound will ever heal, or if this is how it's meant to be. Los Angeles was a dream that never happened. I miss her ever day.'
A stack of cards, no longer shuffled, but scattered across it all.
My house will be even harder to rebuild now, and my heart will be even harder to keep for myself. Either that, or nobody will get it ever again.