THE GREAT PRETENDER.

    THERE’S  NOT  ENOUGH  ALCOHOLIC  CONTENT  coursing  her  bloodstream  to  deal  with  this  .  maybe  this  was  estelle’s  karma  for  trying  something  new  :  braving  a  drunk - blushed  rendition  of  ‘since  u  been  gone’  all  while  trying  to  make  a  point  of  not  making  an  advance  toward  the  nearest  exit  .  estelle  finds  her  place  perched  at  the  bar  side  ,  evading  eyes  that  settle  on  her  even  with  the  throng  of  faces  and  moving  bodies  that  bleed  together  in  a  multi-hued  blur  she  can’t  bother  to  distinguish  .  not  while  she’s  busied  nursing  a  particularly  well - made  cosmo  .  “  i’m  sure  you’re  fun  at  parties  ,  ”  there’s  an  impish  lilt  to  the  words  that  curl  from  the  expat’s  tongue  ,  gaze  finally  pivoting  to  offer  a  side - eye  of  the  stranger  .  a  languid  sip  is  drawn  from  the  chilled  rim  of  the  glass  ,  half  to  consider  the  offer  .  “  i’ll  do  you  one  better  ,  ”  estelle  starts  back  up  ,  “  accompany  me  for  a  song  and  you  can  keep  your  money  .  ”  stemmed - glass  plucked  between  manicured  digits  is  curled  to  her  collar  bones  as  she  takes  a  moment  to  fully  take  in  his  appearance  beneath  the  bar  haze  .  “  i  may  even  buy  you  a  round  if  you’re  any  good  —  so  long  as  you’ll  keep  the  violence  to  a  minimum  .  ”

i was devoured by regrets, fears, fatigue and love.

i imagine that you are able to love me enough to desire to come back for me.

but what does that mean, protect, it’s only a word.

since you like me, or you love me, i must be okay.

i don’t know if i’m real when i’m not being touched.

i just think about the goodness of you as a person.

the most ordinary thing about human beings is not violence or greed but love and care.

that is absolutely out of the question.

history has cut our throats.

everyone seeks a home, a refuge.

i love going on walks by myself.

i’m lying, yes, but why do you force me to give you a linear explanation?

i ask god to send a swordsman and god says ‘look at your hands’.

i don’t want just anyone to share life and myself with me.

no god, no idol, nothing except the burning pain of love.

someone in hell is sitting beside you on the train.

i love you as if you were god.

how i’d love to kill you.

i loved my friend.

people get hurt here.

months pass. years pass, and despair bites into me. i can feel it gnawing.

will you go on loving, or not?

at times failure is very necessary for the artist.

i’m all blood again.

i’ve forgotten, i’ve forgotten everything, and i don’t want to remember.

i am sorry that i cannot say anything more comforting.

all that might have been. exhausts me.

t’s the last day of somebody’s childhood.

the gift of life and the gift of death are equivalent.

there should be just one safe place in the world.

i want to live to see the future.

it seems like fate, doesn’t it?

i know that what happened between us was just an event and not a symbol—just something that happened.

can’t you love me a little? just a little bit?

you’ve just got to work, that’s that.

i love my life, and i’m excited to have it back again.

he looked like an angel, speaking of wisdom.

yes, i thought that’s how it should be.

i won’t tell you how i survived the wreckage.

i sometimes feel like a post standing in a raging sea.

i am not yet as honest with myself as i should be.

i am still ashamed of myself.

people do return to you, you live with them inside you until a few years later they are back with you again.

after this, you will always carry a bit of me, and i will always carry a bit of you, even if we both forget this conversation.

i’m a ghost that everyone can see.

you’re further gone than me.

i have huge respect for my own silence.

if i have to explain my reasoning, argue rigorously, i get agitated, confused—everything seems to fly out of my head.

in fairytales, one does what one wants, and in reality, one does what one can.

i’m sorry, but i can’t explain.

i might betray myself and tell everything i dread.

if we go down into ourselves we find that we possess exactly what we desire.

i am not very good at speaking, in public or private.

what i want is your heart.

but was that what i wanted?

i have everything clear in my mind to start with, and yet it’s as if, after a few words, something gives way.

i think beauty is a deceit.

i always come home. always.

there’s nothing more to say.

i want to know what it means to survive something.

i, too, admire people who have that ability, and i’ve made an effort to accept the fact that i don’t.

the moon is the deity of the mind.

sometimes the most important thing in a whole day is the rest we take between two deep breaths.

maybe, in the face of abandonment, we are all the same.

i kept on with clenched teeth, i said to myself: it will end.

but i know about suffering; if that helps. i know that it ends.

we’ll always be in each other’s lives and we’ll always have this feeling between us.

i want the blood running through my fingers to make a delicate sound.

in my heart i have a scream, always, waiting.

past a certain point, you stop being able to go home.

i’ve never been afraid of loneliness because i’ve never felt the need to justify my feelings to myself.

people fall down and stay down.

sometimes when i get really sad and depressed, you know, i lie in bed and think about you.

beliefs aren’t good or bad; they serve only to bring order, at least momentarily, to our anguish.

i can’t live as i once did.

there was longing in me that felt heavy as lead.

there’ll be no hymns to our glory.

learning so much is what got me here.

you don’t show your love and care by putting what you love behind a fence.

i do feel like a failure.

you think i can’t tame that?

and i think i’m beginning to learn finally what everything has been trying to teach me.

reality is not entirely real to me, and that is why i can’t get down to doing things.

it’s so hard to see the point sometimes, when the things in life i think are meaningful turn out to mean nothing, and the people who are supposed to love me don’t.