Satanic stories, black magic & love

I had been here for over 15 years. I felt like a member of the people here. I knew their habits and flaws like the back of my hand. I always knew that this was my happy place. I mean, I knew it the minute I understood their humor. And I had also bowed not to move until I had tried everything that a country has to offer. The culture, their hobbies, and their food.  And it's not that I conformed, this place grew on me and I stayed. As simple as that. Yet, there were many things that I hadn't been able to achieve. And one of those things was, to have a real friend. I knew many people. Yet, it never came close to what I had with my best friends, who of course, I met when I was in High School. Nothing ever came close to that. No matter how hard I tried. And this made me feel defeated at times. I couldn't shake the feeling of not being able to make a real friend in 15 years. I had tried hanging out with my colleagues. I had tried hanging out with my clients. I had tried hanging o

It was my birthday, and I met you a couple of days after. You were a kitten, a newborn kitten. Still blind and still not ready for life. Still new to this world. Still not ready for what life brings. You were my baby. My baby girl. Pelucha was your name. A fitting name for a girl like you. Fluffly and lively. Full of life and never ready to surrender to the boring days. Your smile would make everyone forget about their heavy baggage. They would forget about their problems, and their bad times would dissipate in the thin air of the afternoon. You had the most distinctive smile from every other cat I had ever had. You were my daughter. I had rescued you from week 2 and you knew it. It was such an amazing time with you by my side. Stress and problematic times would disappear with just a look into your yellow eyes.  I was always drawn to your purity and innocence. To your charisma and to your friendship. You were my best friend in my darkest moments. I would cry my heart out and you would

 It was 8:35pm and I was walking home. It was a normal Friday after work. I had had a good day. It all went smoothly and there was nothing that had disrupted my hard-earned calm and peace of mind. The wind blew gently yet with enough strength to keep the heatwaves of summer away from my sun-ridded skin. I kept a slow pace as I had decided to take it slow. Nobody was waiting for me home. Except for the cats that were probably angry I wasn't coming home on time for dinner. Their dinner. Not mine. I think even though they showed their affection towards me, they couldn't care less if I ate anything for dinner or not. It was their nature and I respected it. They were there for me when I was down and blue. They were there for my happy birthdays and for the uneventful dates. In return, I tried to keep their feeding schedule tight. Their water fresh and their toilets shit-free. I didn't always deliver, as I sometimes would hit the bar near my office for a beer or two before heading

 It was one of those nights when the snow falls so hard the darkness turns white. Snowflakes gently crashing down and colliding in such a violent fashion. There was an ambiguity to it that made the cruel winter seem lovely. It was 8:05pm and I already had 2 beers down my throat. I had had a tough week and I was tired. I was tired of everything and everyone around me. Judging me, patronizing me, and thinking they knew better than I could ever do. For me, it was natural selection, I had come to understand why people leave. It was the best explanation I could have come up with. Why do they always leave? Or should I say: why do the good ones stay? It is always a matter of how you see things. You can be like my parents, fatalistic, and believe everything is up to destiny. Poor destiny. All the lies and the heartache that is credited to fate. If only destiny could refute these claims and shut them all up, life would be a different story. You could see all the good in things and people. Like

I never found a way how to be really happy, for longer than a day or two. I thought of drowning and hanging and of sharp razors, to keep it all inside. Was it really selfish to want to be happier than just for 48 hours? I know now I knew nothing back then. I knew shit. Or even if I knew, I wanted more. More than I could get. I wanted to be happy so badly that I ended up being really down and blue. Drowning in bloodshed puddles of pity. Hanging from a tread every second and every minute. Fucking collecting knives and needles. Whatever made the cut. My life was a sad guitar riff struggling to be remembered. I had somehow found my strength in my own darkness, in my own flaws, and in my own suffering. I was protected and no longer adrift. I was no longer just a bad dream. Strumming strings of happiness that disappear like the angels. And they never said goodbye. They just vanished. Away from the light, I was trying to shine on them.  It all felt eternal to me. Everyone else seemed to have

 "Destroy to open," read the instructions to my newly acquired vinyl by Marilyn Manson. The instructions were clear, yet I grew confused by the minute. I, an avid collector or music, didn't want to destroy the latest addition to my collection. I wanted to preserve the black paper wrapper, forever. But at the same time, I wanted to tear it open and play the shit out of it on my turntable. As loud as my eardrums could bear. As loud as I could to make it all go away, just for 4 minutes. I stood in my living room with the lp in my hands, tightly holding on to that moment, unable to decide whether I should go ahead with its destiny and play it, or just keep it in limbo for God knows how many days before temptation finally made me give in. I think I was always the collecting type. Even if it was cards or the occasional toy that came in a chocolate egg, I would keep them and place them carefully, displayed for everyone to see, but most importantly, for me to know that I had them