Once upon a time, there was a madman writing stories

I wait for you days on end
For my peace of mind
Will you hold my hand?
I miss you...

I think of you day and night
I long for your sight
Will you bring me light?
I miss you...

I pray for you and always will
If dreams could fulfill
If time could stand still
I miss you...

But dreams cannot come true
No matter what we do
Reality strikes you
And flares the pain!

We drifted apart slowly but surely
It could be a tragedy or a comedy
I do not yet understand fully
But you, in your sagacity
You wrote our own story
You forecasted eternity
You destroyed my sanity
You drove me crazy
Misery
And finally, you told me calmly"I'm sorry. This is not for me."

I lived in a sweet fairy tale
I lived for my own little angel
But now this world seems to pale
And flares the pain!

We drifted apart slowly but surely
We tread on different paths, lonely
What is left but the memory
You wrote our own story
You forecasted eternity
You destroyed my sanity
You drove me crazy
Silently

Hope has escaped Pandora's box
I look back at my old locks
I reflect on what I have lost
And flares the pain!

We drifted apart slowly but surely
We left each other knowingly
But now I have to agree
You wrote our own story
You forecasted eternity
You destroyed my sanity
You drove me crazy
Sadly

All of this is an illusion
All of this is an elation
All a dream of my own creation
All a lie the timeless devotion
And for me there is no salvation
What I receive is damnation
At my own hands, my destruction
Set me free!

Take away the heart that is lifeless
Blow away the candle in the darkness
My last death shall be stainless
Set me free!

Forget my fears
Forget my tears
Burn down the tree
Set me free

(Set me free) (And flares the pain) (I miss you)

I never knew what I would do without you. I couldn't think about a day when you wouldn't be part of my life anymore. I didn't want to think of it. Je me suis toujours dit que je ne pourrais pas le faire. Que la vie n'aurait pas de sens. And yet, it happened. "We" are no more. I have to continue on, and I don't know how. Mais ça fait moins mal que je l'aurais pensé. Je vis, tu vis. I get no news from you. I am completely out of your life. And I miss you, terribly. En fait, ça me m'affecte presque pas. J'y pense, de temps en temps. Au temps qui a passé, et qui ne sera pas. And then I catch myself thinking... I'll have to live a lifetime without you. Do you know how long a lifetime is? Mais le temps... le temps est relatif. Relatif, superlatif. Sans toi, je suis libre. Libre de faire ce qu'il me plaît, libre de partir à tout jamais. Tu ne me manques pas. So long, without you... Will I see you in the afterlife? When we'll be old and wrinkly? Or shall you ever be as pretty? Des fois, je me dis que j'aimerais te revoir, à notre mort. Mais pourquoi? Deux vieillards décharnés. Mieux vaut me tenir avec des lépreux, des pestiférés, la lie de la société. A quoi bon, après tout? I would want to. Spend my last days, hours, minutes, talking to you. But I know it won't happen. Will we ever meet again, and take a coffee? Will our path cross again? Ça ne sert à rien. Rien ne sert à rien. Rien ne m'importe. I don't know. But I can't seem to forget. I try to push away, but it stays, it lingers. The memories of you, the memories of us. Ce n'était qu'un rêve, un de ceux qui n'auraient pas dû être. Des illusions à jamais perdues. I miss the short time we spent together. It was a happy time. Les illusions sont toujours regrettées. Peut-être que je les regrette, quand même. I miss those times. Tu me manques. I miss you.

But in the end... I don't know if I really care. De toute façon, je m'en fous.

The Madman.

Make up your mind

Alright, damnit. People. Make up your darned freaking mind, will ya? If you can't decide, play head or tails. Do something. Something's hard to decide? It's fine to hesitate and take the time to think. But for Satan's sake, make it clear. Tell others, "Alright let me think about it, I'll tell you later on." Please don't say something one day, and something else the other day, and then finally come up with a third inexistent option. That's just, wrong. And for fuck's sake, it irritates me. I have no patience lately, and so much stuff bothers me.

And by the way. I don't care if you're old and senile. I don't care if you're kissing your girlfriend until you suck off her lips. I don't care if you're a big fat lady that smells like rotten pussy. On an electric stairs, escalator, whatever you call them, there are two sides. If you can't fucking climb the stairs, please stay on the right side. Please. If you're standing on the left side and ain't moving, I have the furious envy to hit you. You can be excused if you're just, you know... too fat and take up both sides even when standing on the right side. In which case, I'll respect that, but I'll just point and laugh at you.

Which reminds me. The same goes to people that can't walk. Why the fuck are you pushing everyone in order to get out of the metro before them, if you walk slower than a limace? No, seriously? What the fuck? You just push people away, or sneak your way in/out with that 350 lbs body of yours (yes, notice how it's always the people that cannot walk fast or sneak that do it) and then slow the circulation down. Good fucking job. Asshats. *BEEP* Wrong. No hats can fit on your ass, it's just that huge.

I have a good and a bad news. The good news is that, there are no bad news. The bad one is that the last part was a lie. ~ Anonymous

All that matters is gold

Sometimes, I feel like writing. It usually ends up being a rant. And I know I cannot write poems, not in English, and not anymore. So it's just prose, flowing, sometimes fast, sometimes slow. No style, no vocabulary. That's besides the point.

I question myself. Quite often. About the different choices I, and others, make in life. How things would have turned differently, maybe. And today, I'm thinking about money. Of course, my train of thought was... pointed towards that direction. Anyway.

I don't care much about money, never did. I'm a strong proponent of what HR people (hahaha) call work/life balance. You know, having a comfortable life and earning reasonable money? My dream job of sitting in a comfy chair, and doing nothing. Yet... Maybe I was wrong all along. When you aim for 80% on a test, you usually end up with 70%. Aim for 80k per year, you might end up with 50k. Why do we always aim for the average, or slightly above average? Knowing it is possible to achieve high, why aim for lower? Lack of ambition? Laziness? If there is a sin I can identify with, it'd be sloth, no arguing about that.

Here's an allegory I got told the other day, that I'll paraphrase slightly. What we see of an apple tree may be the trunk, the flowers and the apples. What matters to us is the fruit. But what determines the fruits? Of course, the external environment. But also, the roots. If the roots do not provide the nutrients needed, the apples will never grow red and sweet. Deep down inside of us, we have a philosophy about life. Those are our roots. If our roots tell us that we don't need money, then we'll never have money. I know that I have (some) potential. So does everyone I know. That potential just needs to be exploited, and that just needs motivation.

And in our society, all that matters is gold. Money is power. Power is money. Both combined make the one key to unlock the world. Tell me, what can't you achieve with money? You can use it for bad, but you can use it for good. You can keep it, you can give it. Give alms to the poor, like the Church. Or keep it deep in your vault, like the Church. There are very few limits. Love? Oh please, what is Love. Trivial, futile. If you have the money, you'll get the hot girls even at 60, as long as you're a sugar daddy. Or, like the people at work say, "cassonade" daddy. C'est comme sugar daddy, mais moins raffiné.

Maybe this is all very bitter. Or maybe I'm just starting to be practical. Or I pretend to be. Pretend to pretend.

Why be a man when you can be a success? ~ Bertolt Brecht