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I was so convinced that she loved me as much as I loved her, that she wanted me in her life like I wanted her in mine, that I made her happy like she made me happy. I had my moments of doubt, but deep inside I was sure, I trusted her completely. It wasn’t a conviction based on my senses, my imagination or my wishes only. It was based, built on her words, actions, looks, touches.
Then, in four months, I found out some horribly different things:
– she can and she did leave me;
– she is perfectly fine without me in her life, dancing, partying, smiling, laughing, having fun, getting excited over other people, like I never existed in her life;
– she is ashamed of us, of what we did, of what we were;
– her memories of me are awful and hurtful and she desperately wants to reject them, reject me completely, and she succeeded;
– she doesn’t love me;
– I mean „absolutely nothing” for her.
Less than four months from „I love you” to „nope”, and we didn’t even exchange one single word in the meantime.
Asking myself „why” has no sense anymore, it just is and it’s incomprehensible.
And here I am, five months later, completely unable to do what she did.
Here I am, still sobbing at 4 am, crying on the streets and on the bus, falling apart in the shower, ambushed
everywhere by memories and choked out by longing. Wondering if there is something that doesn’t remind me of her.
Here I am, missing her every moment, thinking of her every day, wanting her back despite everything.
Barely existing. Finding this life less and less bearable. And a simple „nope”, and a simple „absolutely nothing” render me into a mess a despair, agony and death wish.


My wrists are fine
My thighs, that’s a different story
No one will ever see my thighs again anyway

Alcohol, tears and blood
but the pain in my chest won’t recede
and I’m still thirsty
for you

Every day I regret I didn’t have a fatal heart attack instead of that fucking glaucoma attack. But I can’t be that lucky. There’s so much pain left to feel.

Today I cried in a public place. I wonder what’s next. I wonder how the fuck a human can take so much pain. I haven’t even hit the bottom, yet.

Eurovision. Like a knife in my chest. My heart is bleeding ‘cause I was so happy and I’ll never be again. But it seems that we don’t have the same memories…or the same feelings about those memories. How can she not remember? How can she not miss that? How can she be so happy?
I should have gotten used to it. But I can’t believe she is so cold and cruel. Something is wrong. Nothing makes sense anymore.

My heart hurts so much I can’t stop the tears, not even when I’m not alone. How can my pain be seen as coldness and anger? How can my love be rejected with so much coldness and maybe disgust? How can THE ONE who saw the real me think and feel like that about me now? Why? Why? What did I do to her? What did I do so wrong? I gave her my heart and all I get is indifference and rejection.

Sleep ceased to be an escape for me; she’s haunting my dreams. This is getting too much, way too much. Where can I run away from myself?



Every whisper
Of every waking hour I’m
Choosing my confessions
Trying to keep an eye on you
Like a hurt lost and blinded fool, fool

I’m painting my sorrow with these dark colors
I immortalize my painful ife into this work of art

Night after night
At the attic in dim candlelight
I return to my work
These dark lines and visions that hurt

And from the canvas I can look into my soul
The paint reflects my inner fears and my pain

Weak soul in my weaker flesh
Alone and so addicted
Lost of love made me insane
All I have is skill to paint

I’m painting my sorrow with these dark colors
I immortalize my painful life into this work of art

Pain after pain
Painted in valued works of art
The hate i have for this gift
Why can I paint the shape of suffering?

My respected art I create from my pain
Dark visions from my hollow soul

Weak soul in my weaker flesh
Alone and so addicted
Lost of love made me insane
All I have is skill to paint

Lost of love made me insane

Ohne dich kann ich nicht sein

Simt cum Iadul imi da tarcoale…