better now than I've been in years. yet I am so nostalgic. am I nostalgic of a way of feeling things I never knew again? am I nostalgic of the way I felt? felt so bad. felt so incredible. felt like I could throw down the whole world with my scrutinised pain and my self disdain. a true master of self loathing, I was. 

what am I now?

some desperate existent being. more desperate now than ever, perhaps. do I miss the pain? surely you always miss the quite intimacy of self induced pain. of lying on the bathroom floor and attacking your own skin. the intimacy of the burning pain and all the energy it takes away. 

do I have any burning energy left? perhaps I have died in a way. I mean, no one quite resists a living coma for years and the last have been that exactly. 

but, well. I am not there anymore. in fact, I'm free from it completly. I have walked away like I dreamed of. I am trying and risking and letting go. I don't know where I am and where I'm going but I like where I am now and I don't want to leave for the most part of the day, in fact, sometimes I find myself wanting to stay.

I most certainly don't want to die, which is a start. and I admit perfectly that I have been a lucky bastard these last months. 

maybe I can feel. I wish. I do.

- haven't ranted in here for a long long time.